The Art of Control
by avintagekiss24
Summary: Maggie Greene has always been Michonne's Achilles heel. Whatever the green eyed beauty wants, Michonne usually gives. So, when Maggie suggests a night out at one of her famous social mixers, Michonne obliges. Unbeknownst to all, a blue eyed stranger will shift her actuality from distinct to obscure. Limits will be tested, desires will be realized, and no one will be left the same.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _ **So, I've been sitting on this one for awhile and finally got the courage to post it. I still don't really know how I feel about it, to be honest, lol. If you guys enjoy it, please let me know and I will certainly continue. I just want to thank you all for reading, reviewing, and following everything else that I've written. You certainly know how to make a girl feel special! - Brittany**  
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 **One.**

Maggie taps her manicured fingers against the counter, her chin in her palm as she watches her friend scurry around behind the bar. Michonne counts the till quickly with her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her coffee. She jots down the numbers on a scrap piece of paper before shoving the cash in the deposit bag and sealing it up. She glances up, linking eyes with her oldest friend before smirking quickly and returning to wiping down the bar.

"I said I'd think about it Mags."

"Uh huh." Maggie says dully, bringing the large coffee cup to her red lips to take a long sip.

"I mean it, I will." Michonne shrugs, throwing the towel underneath the bar and grabbing a stack of comic books.

She moves out from behind the bar and heads to the south wall covered from floor to ceiling with comics. She begins returning each one to its rightful place while bumping one of the chairs back into place at the table with her hip. Michonne takes a deep breath as she feels Maggie's eyes burning a hole into the back of her head. She said she'd think about it and she will. Why is she harping on this?

"Maggie." Michonne warns, not turning around.

"You always say you'll think about it and that always means no."

"That is not true." Michonne defends as she finally turns back to her friend.

Maggie has since turned in her seat to face Michonne, her elbows resting slightly behind her on the bar. She cocks her head and purses her lips, calling bullshit on her friends' tall tale. Michonne shakes her head before sending her eyes toward the ceiling and returning to the task at hand.

"It's been three years Michonne." Maggie says quietly, dropping her eyes to her black pumps when she sees Michonne tense.

Michonne drops her head a little as Maggie's words wash over her. Three years. Three long, unbearable years. Sometimes, she swears she still hears his little laugh throughout her apartment. She still has a pair of his favorite pair of black Chucks. They sit by the front door, unmoving, untouched, like they are waiting for him to just burst through the door at any moment. Her wedding ring still sits perched on her nightstand in a small, crystal bowl that Maggie got them as a wedding gift all those years ago. She still has one of Mike's jackets; keeps it deep in her closet. She drags it out on occasion and wraps herself in it when the memories become too much to bare. Even after everything he's done, everything that he had put her through. She still wraps up in his old jacket.

How pathetic.

"I know that. I don't need a reminder." Michonne says lowly.

Maggie sighs as the air around them fills with tightness. She glances out the glass door of the Flashpoint Paradox, Michonne's coffee/comic book shop. Dusk is overtaking the city, the sky full of pinks and oranges. She glances back at Michonne, her back still to her as she pushes the comics back into place. She's dressed simply, in a purple tank top and tight jeans, her feet covered with a pair of old Chucks. Her long dreads fall over her shoulders as they hang loose, accentuating her broad shoulders and back as it flexes and then relaxes. She hates to see her friend in such pain, after three years no less. She doesn't even seem like the same Michonne. She's just a shell of the woman that Maggie used to know and love.

"I know it's been hard Michonne, but you can't keep going on like this. You still have a life that's worth living." When Michonne doesn't answer, Maggie continues, "It's just a party. One night is all I'm asking for."

"It's not just a party Mags." Michonne finally speaks up, shoving the last comic book in the shelf before starting to straighten up the rest of the tables, "It's _your_ kind of party. You know that shit makes me uncomfortable."

Maggie rolls her eyes, "You're making up excuses. You know I would never let anyone make you uncomfortable at one of these things. I respect you and I'd make them respect you."

"Then why do you want me to go?"

"Because I want you to get out of your apartment. I want you to get all gussied up and drink and laugh and be careless for the first time in years. I want you to have some fun, like we used to. I want to get drunk and cry as we listen to Celine Dion until six in the morning and then pig out on donuts and eclairs."

Michonne drops her head again, trying to let Maggie's words sink in, "I can't. I just, can't right now Maggie. Come on. " She says softly.

"You have to try Michonne. You can't just let the world keep moving around you." Maggie answers back just as softly, "I miss you. I want to see you happy again, smiling again, that's all." The southern belle shrugs her shoulders in defeat, repeating, "I miss you."

Michonne nods her head slowly, smiling sadly as memories of their past begin to play back, "Remember when I found out I was pregnant?"

"We danced out in the rain." Maggie smiles as her eyes water, "Your mom was so pissed at me, you were sick for weeks."

"To be fair, she was never a big fan of you. You always got me into trouble."

"Oh please," Maggie dismisses, "We're soulmates you and I. Hey, you remember Andre's second birthday party? When we got drunk on that wine and ate half of his birthday cake while watching the Lion King after everybody left?"

"Oh hell," Michonne laughs, "My poor baby crawled out of his little bed to come tell us to quiet down so he could sleep."

"That was a good night."

"You were a good aunt." The words leave Michonne's mouth before she can even process them. Both woman shift uncomfortably. There's that past tense again. _Were. Was. Had._ She hates using those terms when talking about him. It still feels so unnatural.

"I miss being Auntie Maggie. I miss him so much." Maggie says softly, dabbing at her eyes with her finger, not wanting to smear her makeup.

"I miss him too." Michonne admits, "I'm just stuck Maggie, I can't- it's not as easy as you're making it."

Maggie crosses her arms over her chest, shielding herself slightly as the conversation grows uncomfortable, "I know it's not. I'm not asking you to run out and get married. I just want you to have a little fun."

Michonne scoffs, "Why can't we just go to dinner and then see a movie?"

"Because that's boring and we always do that." Michonne turns toward the slightly younger woman as she exhales loudly again. Maggie is beautiful, always has been. Her short, dark hair is curled and coifed up to perfection. Her diamond earrings glint as the sun dies away in the sky and match the teardrop shaped necklace nestled in her cleavage. Her tight red, strapless dress hugs her slim body and curves, looking almost as if it's painted on. Sure it's Friday night and Maggie has absolutely no where to go, but, the rich, southern belle in her would never let her step out of the house dressed in anything less, "You need to get out, meet some new people, broaden your horizons a bit."

"And I can all of that with your freak friends?" Michonne asks, a small smile playing on her plump lips.

Maggie squints her eyes and points a long finger at her, "Hey, my friends are very cultured, very refined people."

"That just happen to be deviants, right?" Michonne laughs.

"Right!" Maggie agrees, smiling for the first time since she walked in the door, "I mean it Michonne, I won't let anyone make you uncomfortable. My parties are fun!"

"It's a hook up party Maggie!"

"It's a social mixer. It's hard finding a partner in the lifestyle with the group of people I mix with. This is not Fifty Shades of Grey, we just can't trust every virgin that walks through the door." Michonne laughs again, shaking her head as Maggie jumps to her feet and scurries over to her, "You could meet a doctor or a lawyer." She says as she wraps Michonne up in a hug, resting her head on Michonne's shoulder.

"I still don't understand you." Michonne scolds slightly, changing the subject, "You are the daughter of the most well-known pastor in the country. You went to all-girl schools your entire life and graduated from the most prestigious college in Atlanta and you let some man tie you up and make you call him daddy?"

Maggie scoffs loudly and rolls her eyes as she leans against one of the tables, "It is not even like that, and it was all those girls' schools I went to that turned me into the sexual goddess I am today."

"Oh god." Michonne laughs loudly.

"Plus, I don't get tied up anymore. I'm making all of the calls now a days."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"I'm a Domme now. I'm in control and let me tell you, these boys love it and so do I."

"I thought you and Glenn broke up?"

"We did, that's why I'm throwing this party. Stop changing the subject, damn it. Being a submissive is not what you think. It is an incredibly powerful role for a woman to be in. You come to learn to embrace your sexuality and explore your limits. You have complete control over your body, mind, and not to mention, your Dominant. It's exhilarating."

Michonne's eyes widen in response, "If you say so." She laughs nervously.

"Listen, I was controlled my entire life by my father and his overly critical, fascist ass. I was always told good girls keep their feet on the floor, good girls don't cuss, good girl don't wear jeans, blah, blah, blah. It's bullshit. I learned my true worth and power as a woman through this lifestyle. I am more than just somebody's little house wife like my father wanted me to be. It's not all about the kinky sex, although, that makes it all worth while." Michonne laughs again as Maggie grabs both of her hands in hers.

"You really learned all of that through sex?"

"Yes!" Maggie bellows, "Women have been oppressed sexually since the dawning of the earth. We've always been told to act a certain way, look a certain way, to behave a certain way. Fuck that. If you find the right man, a man who wants you to find your power, who encourages you to test your limits freely and safely, it is the best kind of liberation you can get."

Michonne shifts slightly at the thought. She never looked at sex quite that way before. It wasn't about female liberation and finding your power, it was just… sex. Something to make you feel good for a few minutes, or at least to get Mike to shut up for the night. Hearing Maggie speak about it made her a little jealous. Michonne was the good girl that Maggie spoke of. She was always the level headed, calm, agreeable, dependable Michonne. Michonne never rocks the boat. Michonne is never late. Michonne has never had a man give her an orgasm, but, that's just between her and her vibrator.

"But, I'm not trying to recruit you. I just want you to get out and have some fun, some _real_ fun."

Michonne sighs again, glancing around her little shop before landing her large, dark eyes on Maggie's green orbs, "You promise you'll tell them I'm off limits?"

"I promise! Preachers' daughter honor." She answers, raising two fingers in the air like a scouts' honor, "So is that a yes?"

Michonne rolls her eyes again but knows the only way she's going to get Maggie to back off is to just go to the damn party, "I guess." Michonne finally relents, causing Maggie to jump and squeal as she throws her arms around Michonne's neck, "I don't have any fancy ass clothes to wear though."

"Oh, don't you worry about that darling! There is only one thing I love more than you and that is shopping! I'm so excited!" She hugs Michonne tightly before twirling her around and around in the middle of the floor, "Take next Friday off, spa day and shopping before the party."

"Whoa. I can't close the shop for an entire day. I'll just close up a little early and come over after."

Maggie places her hands on her hips, "You are closing the shop next Friday and you are going to let me pamper you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"Maggie-" Michonne starts.

"Michonne, you've only been open for a year and you paid me back in full two months ago! One day won't kill you!"

"I didn't like taking that money from you."

"I insisted, and you know better than anyone that I always get what I want."

"I have bills to pay! You know, rent, utilities, things you can't be bothered with apparently."

Maggie swats Michonne's shoulder before clicking her way to the back office. After a few minutes, she returns with a black marker, a piece of paper, and a roll of scotch tape. She scribbles something on the paper then sashays to the front door, taping the note to the door.

"What on earth are you doing?" Michonne asks after a moment, placing her hands on her hips.

"Putting up a sign so everyone knows that you'll be closed next Friday and that you'll be reopening bright and early Sunday morning." Maggie replies, turning and greeting Michonne with a bright, toothy smile.

"Sunday morning?" Michonne asks, her eyebrows raised, "I think you mean I'll be reopening bright and early Saturday morning."

Maggie purses her lips and sends her eyes toward the ceiling before shaking her head quickly, "No, I think you need to take Saturday off too. You'll be too hungover to come in."

Michonne scoffs loudly, "You said one day."

Maggie shrugs, "I changed my mind."

"Maggie, that is just-"

The southern woman throws up her hands, letting out an irritated huff, "Fine, fine, fine. Why don't you let Beth take over on Saturday? She's more than capable of holding down the fort for a day or two. If she needs help, she can call in Noah, he's proven to be very responsible as well."

"Beth has class on Friday's."

Maggie places her hands on her hips, "We've already discussed Friday, you're closed, end of discussion. We are now talking about Saturday."

It's not a bad idea. Beth has only been working for Michonne for a couple of months but she's been working in coffee shops since she was a teenager, even worked her way up to manager at one. The thought of the shop being open and Michonne not being there made her uneasy. She should just be here. Her entire life for the past year has been the Flashpoint Paradox, she can't just _not_ show up, "I can't do that to her. She'll need help and-" She stops talking as she takes notice of the death glare that Maggie is throwing her way. Michonne sighs again, shaking her head, "Okay, okay, I'll talk to Beth and have her open back up on Saturday and I'll let Noah know that she might be calling." Maggie grins widely, knowing that she's won the battle and the war. Michonne shakes her head again, in awe of her friend's tenacity, "You are incredibly spoiled, you know that?"

"Of course I do! That's what being an only child will do to ya. Now, let's get something to eat, I'm starving."

"Ten more minutes, I have to enter some stuff into my spreadsheets and order some more comics. Do me a favor? Will you count the Batman comics please? And then I need you to tell me the counts on the coffee in the back so I can put in a reorder. Thanks babe."

Maggie grunts loudly, sticking out her tongue at Michonne as she jogs by and disappears into her office, "Shouldn't you hire people to do this stuff for you?" Maggie calls, running her fingers over the bookshelves lined with comics.

"I should but for now, I'll settle with you. You ready?" Michonne shouts back, logging into her computer and opening one of the many spreadsheets she keeps. She laughs to herself as she's met with another scoff and loud groan from Maggie before she starts calling out the titles and recording the number she has on hand. Oh, what a fun Friday night.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Guys! You are amazing, you truly are! Thank you so much for all of the reviews and reads and likes and follows and all of that. I'm so glad you're enjoying this! Here's the next part, I hope you enjoy! 3 3 3_**

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 **Two.**

Michonne groans loudly as sunlight invades her otherwise dark room. She covers her face with her hands as the world, aka Maggie Greene, creeps into her dreams and pulls her back into the living. Maggie hums loudly as she slams the curtains to either side of the large windows and then saunters over to the radio to turn it on full blast, "Rise and shine baby girl. It's Friday!"

She plops down on the bed next to her friend, giggling slightly as Michonne rolls over to the other side, "What time is it?" Michonne grumbles as she tries to pull the blankets back up over her head.

"Just get up. I don't get how you've been opening the store at five in the morning every day for the past year with this attitude."

"It's difficult, trust me."

Maggie pulls the blankets away, standing as she saunters into Michonne's closet to pick out her outfit for the day, "Get up. We have to be at the spa in thirty minutes."

Michonne groans again, regretting that fact that she agreed to all of this, "Thirty minutes? I have to shower and shave and eat and-"

"Will you shut up and get out of that damn bed? We can shower at the club, I've already signed us up for a waxing and they have a killer breakfast. Brush your teeth and put this on, I'll be in the living room."

Michonne watches with wide eyes as Maggie throws a t shirt and shorts onto the bed and then walks out like she owns the place. Michonne glances at the clock, seven thirty. She feels like she could sleep for a solid six months straight. Either sleeping in is the worst thing in the world, or she hasn't realized exactly how tired she really is. She slams her head back down on her pillow and rolls over onto her side once more, shutting her eyes as she lets out a sigh. Just five more minutes.

"Michonne!"

"Oh God, I'm up, I'm up!" She screams back, rolling out of bed and stomping toward the bathroom.

Michonne readies in record time and fifteen minutes later, Maggie is whisking her through the busy streets of Atlanta. Michonne sends a quick text to Beth, confirming for the one hundredth time that she's okay to open the store alone the next morning. She suddenly lurches forward, throwing her hands up on the dash to brace herself as Maggie brings her Audi S4 to an abrupt halt. Michonne stares over at her friend as she slams her hand on the horn before flipping off the Honda in front of her.

"Learn how to fucking drive asshole! Goddam!"

Michonne laughs wildly, falling back into the seat, "If only Pastor Hershel could see you now."

"Pssh," Maggie scoffs, "I got my mouth from him."

The light ahead of them turns green and Maggie speeds off once more, swerving in and out of the tight lanes to try and get ahead of all the morning traffic, "You are the worst fucking driver I've ever seen." Michonne chuckles again, slamming her eyes shut out of genuine fear.

"Oh shut the hell up," Maggie giggles. She throws on the blinker, for once, and pulls up next to the curb to the swanky Buckhead Grand Spa, "We're here!"

She leaves the car running as she steps out and saunters toward the valet. Michonne follows behind her, shoving her hands in her pockets as her Michael Kors shoulder bag bounces against her hip as she moves. The valet jumps behind the seat of the fire engine red Audi and disappears into traffic once more as the two women move inside the five-star spa and salon.

"Ms. Greene, welcome back." The young blonde greets from behind the long counter, standing and extending a very bright, very big smile.

"Thank you Valerie. This is my very best friend Michonne, she'll be joining me today."

Valerie turns her attention to Michonne, offering yet another toothy smile, "Of course, welcome to Buckhead Grand. Would you two like to start with breakfast?"

Michonne turns toward Maggie, her eyes wide and a slight smirk on her face as she has no idea what is actually going on around her, "No, I think we'll start with a shower and a massage. Then breakfast." Maggie states firmly but sweetly, causing Michonne to roll her eyes.

"Sure thing, right this way ladies."

Valerie whisks the women through two large glass doors and back past the pools toward the lockers. She explains quickly the system, before waltzing off and leaving the two friends alone once more. They undress and slip into the silk robes provided and head into the shower, laughing and giggling as they begin to banter back and forth. Hours pass, but the women are having the time of their lives. They both enjoyed the best Swedish massages of their lives, Michonne gorged herself on the best chocolate croissants and exotic cheeses she's ever had the pleasure of digesting, and the hour-long sugar scrub from head to toe has relaxed her beyond belief. They enjoy a cocktail with lunch and finish up their mani/pedis.

"Alright, we got a few hours to kill before our hair appointments. Let's hit up some boutiques." Maggie sings as she tosses up her shoulder length tresses into a pony tail.

Michonne shoves her foot into her black Chucks and sweeps her dreads over her shoulder, "They know how to handle dreads here?"

Maggie shoots her a look as she throws her purse over her shoulder and slams her locker shut, "Honey, this is Atlanta, hair capital of the world. Don't worry."

The two link arms as they step back out on the street and head toward the fancy clothing boutiques, "Thanks for today. I didn't realize how much I needed some pampering." Michonne says, truly enjoying the time with her friend.

"Don't thank me yet. You just wait until I show you the little ditties I had the girls at Jeffery pick out for you. You are just going to die! And their shoe collection is top notch."

"Yeah, expensive as hell too."

"Oh you hush and don't you dare look at any of the price tags in here or I'll scratch your eyes out."

Michonne stares over at Maggie, her mouth dropping open as she throws her hand over her heart in the most dramatic of fashions, "I'm worried about you, seriously."

Maggie laughs and escorts them into the small boutique, waving at the small girl behind the counter, "It's me Tiffany, should we head toward the dressing rooms?"

"Yes Ms. Greene, they are still setting up for you two."

Michonne scoffs a little again as they walk toward the back of the store, "Yes Ms. Greene," she mocks, laughing a little louder as Maggie elbows her in the ribs, "Ouch, bitch."

They step through a light pink curtain into a large dressing room, where two women scurry around placing dresses on the racks and stacking boxes of shoes in the corner. The room is lined with mirrors with a small podium in the middle to stand on. Before Michonne or Maggie can say anything, the two women rush to them, taking their purses and handing them flutes of champagne.

"Ms. Greene, your selections are to the right and Ms. Moreau, yours are to the left, size four, correct?"

"Yes ma'me." Michonne smiles.

"Perfect. If you two need any help or would like to see anything else, just let us know."

The two women flounce out and leave Michonne with the wicked Maggie alone once more. Michonne takes a sip of her champagne as she runs her hands over the expensive dresses, all arranged by colors. Warm pinks, to bright reds, to cool blues, to earthy greens; her favorite colors. Damn, Maggie does know her well. Michonne gulps down her drink and pulls out a light pink, no shoulders cocktail dress. She holds it up to herself and checks out her reflection before slipping out of her shoes. She removes her clothes as Maggie slips into a tight, black form fitting dress, complete with side cut outs and a plunging neckline.

They both step up on the podium and begin turning and swaying, checking themselves out from every angle, "That is so cute on you." Maggie adds after a moment, stepping behind her friend and resting her chin on her shoulder, "You like it?"

Michonne tilts her head as she continues to eye herself. The dress stops right in the middle of her thighs, showing off her long, toned legs a little more than she's comfortable with. But, before she can answer, Maggie pushes her off the podium and heads toward her side of the dressing room, "You took too long to answer, try this one."

Michonne laughs and unzips the dress, "Hussy. Well, tell me about all of the eligible bachelors that'll be there tonight."

Maggie hands her another short, lacy, backless white party dress before she pours herself another glass of champagne, "Girl, tonight is going to be the best party I have thrown in ages. I got some real keepers coming tonight, you know that big time lawyer Negan Blacksmith? His billboards are going up all over the city."

Michonne scrunches up her nose at the name, "His real name is Negan? I thought that was like a nickname or something."

Maggie scoffs a little, "Will you pay attention?"

"I am paying attention!" Michonne refutes, shrugging a little, "That's a stupid name."

"Anyway," Maggie drags out, fluttering those long dark eyelashes, "He's just a big old country boy from Texas. He just moved to Atlanta to expand his partnership and I heard he's looking for a big change in his personal life. He's divorced, has no kids and is fine as hell. I can't wait to meet his ass. You know country boys like to throw their money around."

"Like you don't have enough money?" Michonne laughs.

"In the great words of Lil' Kim, why spend mine when I can spend yours?" She laughs a little as she unzips her own dress and heads back toward her side of the room, "I think he's bringing a friend too, Daryl Dixon or something."

"What does he do?"

"Hmm," Maggie hums, "I heard he builds motorcycles or something. He's got a couple shops in California."

"Oh, that's cool. They're both in the BDSM thing?"

"Not yet, but it's my job to convince them tonight." Michonne chuckles again as she pulls off the white number and slips into a white pants suit , "Ooh, but my very, very best friend is coming tonight!" Maggie jumps up and down, clapping her hands, "I haven't seen him in ages."

Michonne scoffs, "I thought I was your very, very best friend? Wench."

"You are darling, he's my very best male friend, how 'bout that? Rick Grimes of Grimes Construction, you've heard of him right?" Michonne shakes her head, "Of course you have, he built those swanky apartments just off Peachtree street last year. They had the big article about him in Atlanta magazine."

Michonne buttons the white jacket over the tight, corset like halter top and turns to look at her backside, "Oh yeah, yeah, the guy with the eyes, right? I think I've heard you talk about him a time or two."

"A time or two? I gush about him all the time! Anyway, he's been in Japan for the past couple months, he's building this state of the art museum for them. Girl, let me tell you." She grabs Michonne's hand and plops them both down on the floor, pouring two more glasses of champagne, "He is so gorgeous, ugh," She groans, rolling her eyes a little, "And he's just a good old southern boy. He's from King county."

"That's a country ass town." Michonne laughs, starting to feel warm as she sips on her third or fourth or possibly fifth alcoholic drink of the day.

"But he is so sweet, I mean, you would never ever think that he'd be in the lifestyle."

"You've… been with him?" Michonne asks.

Maggie shakes her head, "Oh God, no. We talked about it a few years back but it'd be too weird. Plus, I was transitioning between being a sub to a Domme, so it really wouldn't have worked out. We're too good of friends for all that. But," Maggie wiggles a little closer to Michonne, dropping her tone to almost a whisper, "I've heard _thangs_ about Mr. Grimes and the bedroom."

The words peak Michonne's interest and she leans in, running her index finger over the rim of her glass, "What? Like what?" She asks hurriedly, wanting to know more, "What kind of things?"

"Well, first he's hung like a goddamn horse, that shit is rare for white boys." Michonne giggles, throwing her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, "And he likes it rough."

"Rough? What does that mean? Like, whips and chains and shit?" Michonne asks, her eyes wide.

"No, he's not into all that. He's just… he knows what he wants out of his subs, you know? I love a confident Dom." Maggie straightens up a little, rolling her shoulders, "One of his exes was telling me that he is real handsy, you know? He likes to just _feel_ your body. She said his hands are pure magic." Michonne shifts a little, her body tightening out of nowhere. It surprises her a little, "And she said he just likes to watch you, you know?"

Michonne glances around after a few seconds, throwing her hands up as she eager awaits the rest of the story, "No, I don't know. Watches you do what?"

Maggie leans back, smirking at her overly eager friend, "Ooh, somebody is awfully interested suddenly." She teases, "You want me to introduce you two?"

"Just shut up and answer my question."

Maggie laughs again as Michonne slaps her arm lightly, "Well, she told me that one time, he tied her hands above her head and just stood there, looking at her. He stalked her, like a lion or something, her words, not mine. He just walked all around her, running his finger along her body, eye fucking her like crazy, planting kisses and shit all along her body. She said it was so intense, it made her come. Him just looking at her made her come, isn't that delicious?"

Michonne gulps down the rest of her drink and quickly pours another, shifting again. She's surprised again at herself, feeling a dampness between her legs that sprang from nowhere. Just hearing about him staring at her, admiring her body and curves, his swift lips on her neck, his finger dragging along her body… fuck. She stands, not wanting to ruin the crotch of the tight white pants of this very expensive pant suit and sucks down the bubbly liquid, "Holy hell."

"Yeah." Maggie agrees, standing behind her, "Damn girl, you fill that shit out perfectly! Turn around for me." Michonne turns on the balls of her feet for her friend, "Oh yeah, this is it miss thing. A dramatic red lip and some pumps and you'll be killing 'em softly tonight."

"It's not too tight?" Michonne tilts her head once more as she looks herself over.

"Not in the slightest. Unbutton this jacket, let them tata's breathe." Michonne laughs as Maggie pulls at her dreads, pulling it up with her hands into a pony tail and then curling it around her fist to make a bun, "Eh, we'll leave 'em loose. I'll have Garcella curl them up with the rollers, you'll be gorgeous." Maggie lets Michonne's hair fall from her hands and steps away from her, "Now help me pick something so we can get back to the salon. We still have shoes, make up and jewelry ahead of us."

Michonne rolls her eyes playfully, but heads toward her friend, running her fingers over her selection, "Okay, but you didn't tell the most important thing about tonight."

Maggie squints her eyes, "What's that?"

"The food."

"Oh my god," Maggie scoffs, rolling her eyes as Michonne laughs loudly again, "You just ate."

"And I'll be hungry again later. What are you having?"

"Finger foods, you glutton."

Michonne puts her hands on her hips, staring down Maggie, "You know that is not going to work."

"We'll get dinner before, alright? Damn, is that all you think about?"

Michonne shrugs, nodding her head quickly before pulling out a red, off the shoulder, floor length dress, "Pretty much, yeah. Try this one."

Michonne dutifully helps Maggie into the expensive, sheer material and watches as she twirls around in the mirror, "So you pretty much have your eye on that Negan guy?" She asks after a minute.

"And his friend." Maggie answers confidently, turning on her heel to look over her shoulder.

Michonne scoffs, "Both of them? My god!"

"Listen, I read a book talking about learning how to push your personal boundaries to find out your true inner strength."

"And you took that to mean taking two dicks instead of one?" Michonne asks incredulously.

Maggie steps off of the podium and shoots her a death stare before motioning for a little help to slip out of the dress, "You better talk to people tonight Michonne, I mean it. Don't just post up by the food."

"I told you I'm not interested in meeting any of your freak friends."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm saying have a meaningful, philosophical, intellectual conversation with another human being. You'll probably never see any of them again anyway so let loose tonight."

Michonne sighs as she too starts to shimmy back into her street clothes, "I will try, okay? I'll try."

"You better do more than try! I mean it, I will embarrass you girl."

Michonne grunts loudly, "I'll talk to people okay? Damn."

Maggie smiles widely, "Good. Now come on, we've got jewelry to try."

Maggie steps past her with her dress and Michonne's outfit in her hands and exits the dressing room without another word. Michonne shakes her head, laughing a little as she traipses out behind her friend. What in the hell has she gotten herself into? She follows behind Maggie and stops as she hands over their outfits to the clerks and then heads to the jewelry counter. Michonne leans over the glass, her eyes widening at all the shiny diamonds and the even shinier price tags.

"So uh," Michonne starts, clearing her throat a little as she tries to seem uninterested, "How did you meet this Rick guy again?"

Maggie straightens up a little, cutting her eyes toward her friend, a smirk on her pretty lips, "He's actually friends with my father, wouldn't you know it. He rebuilt his church about ten years back. I met him when he came to meet my father." Michonne nods but keeps her eyes cast toward the bracelets. Maggie sucks her teeth a little as she watches her, "Why?"

"Just wondering." Michonne shrugs.

"Umm hmm." Maggie groans loudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What Maggie?" Michonne asks after a few seconds, feeling her green eyes on her.

"Do you want to meet him? He's very nice."

"No." Michonne states firmly, hating how Maggie can pick up on the smallest hint in Michonne's voice.

"Handsome too. And rich."

Michonne turns sharply toward her, "Will you stop?"

"Stop what?" She asks, her octave raising slightly, "I'm just asking if you want an introduction. It's not like I'm sending you off to war, goddamn. You're the one that brought him up again!"

"So it's a crime to want to know how you met him? It was just a question and you gotta get all… you, about it."

Maggie waves her off, rolling her eyes at Michonne's nonsense, "Lighten up, grandma!"

Michonne holds up her hand to stop her, regretting bring him up again at all. But her brief description of him, him making a woman come by just looking at her is just… fascinating. How is that even possible? Orgasming because someone is looking at you? Michonne can't even get off with physical touch and actual penetration half of the time but yet women are creaming themselves just off of a look? Lucky bitch. What kinda man- _you are being ridiculous!_ Her mind screams at her, telling her to come back to her senses. _Maggie made that shit up, this isn't you. Stop it._ Michonne sighs and flicks some of her dreads over her shoulder, slightly irritated, but grateful that Maggie dropped the subject.

They continue to shop for a few hours, Maggie swiping her black card like it's going out of style, before they head back to the spa. Michonne plops down in the stylist chair and taps her fingers against her knees as the young German girl throws the apron over her front. Maggie and her hair stylist traipse into the room a few minutes later, Maggie's hair dripping from her shampoo and condition. She throws a magazine into Michonne lap before settling into the chair next to her friend.

"Lookie what I found." She coos, smiling that sly smile of hers.

Michonne looks down into her lap and rolls her eyes over at Maggie, "Oh, so they just happened to have a copy of Atlanta Magazine from six months ago?" She asks, holding up the magazine with the blue-eyed Rick Grimes splashed across the cover.

"Sure did! Read up darlin'."

Michonne watches as Maggie leans back, closing her eyes, essentially shutting Michonne and the rest of the world out. Michonne sighs, dropping the magazine to her lap once again as she stares down at the curly haired man looking back at her. _He ain't that damn cute._ But, knowing that she has at least two hours in this chair and that Maggie will literally not speak a word to her until she sees her finish the article, Michonne flips through the pages, finally landing on his eight-page spread. She wiggles down into the leather chair to get comfortable and gets to know THE Richard Grimes.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, but it is just in time for Christmas! I just want to thank you all again for reading and reviewing and following! Merry Christmas to all that celebrate, and happy holidays! Be safe! :)**

* * *

 **Three.**

Michonne takes a sip of her champagne before popping a plump purple grape into her mouth. She giggles lightly as one of Maggie's guests drops a rather funny joke. She's surprised. She is actually having fun. She was nervous at first, doing exactly what Maggie said she would do, huddle by the food table. But, Maggie wasn't having any of it and pushed her into the middle of room, sticking by her side and introducing her around. After a while, and a few, well, six drinks, she lightened up and can say that she's enjoying her present company (even though they're all a bunch of freaks).

A loud clanking takes over the room and every one turns their attention toward the front of the great room. Maggie ushers to Michonne, grabbing her by the wrist and pulls her up to the front, where she clears her throat, "Hello, hello!" She starts, that wide smile on full display as she addresses the crowd, "Everybody having fun?" The men and woman clap loudly, whooping and hollering like a group of college kids at a house party. She laughs, throwing her head back before flicking her wrists at them all, "Oh, hush now. All this applause will grow straight to my already big head."

"She ain't lying." Michonne adds, feeling light and tipsy as her face begins to heat up.

Maggie scoffs loudly as laughter fills her lavish home but hugs Michonne to her tightly, "She knows me all too well. Well, since she's spoken up, this is my very best friend in the whole world, Michonne Moreau. Now, I know that she has got be the most gorgeous little thing you've all ever had the pleasure of meeting," A few whistles and cat calls fill the room and Michonne starts to laugh, "I know it, I know," Maggie continues, "But alas, she's off limits."

"Now that is not fair." A tall man calls, stepping up a little from the crowd. He's dressed down, looking more like a greaser than a multimillionaire. He's in a simple white shirt, covered by a black leather jacket and dark jeans. His dark hair is slicked back but that smile is just as big as the state he's from, "Ms. Moreau can speak for herself, can't she? You don't want to be off limits, do you baby?" His voice is smooth as he leans back slightly, accentuating certain words for absolutely no reason as he grins slyly.

Michonne throws up her hands, smiling as she shakes her head, "Yes, and yes." She laughs, "I'm the biggest square you guys will ever meet. I'm not cut out for all of this."

"That certainly cannot be true! I mean, you're half way there. You are here with the rest of us perverts." He pipes up again, drawing more laughter from the crowd.

"She's only here because I just simply wouldn't take no for an answer and promised to keep her out of harm's way tonight. So you hush that big mouth of yours Negan." Maggie chirps in, wrapping an arm around Michonne's waist.

Negan mimics Michonne, throwing his hands up in defeat, "Hey, a guy can try, can't he?"

Maggie shoos him off, flicking her wrist toward him but blinking coyly, "Ms. Moreau here does not indulge or engage in our lifestyle yet, but believe me, I'm working on it." Everyone laughs again, "So, all you'll be getting out of her tonight is a delightful conversation, alright?" A few people boo, causing Michonne to giggle again, "Now, enough of all that. Let's have some fun!"

The crowd erupts again, raising their glasses in the air and clapping before breaking back up into small groups to continue mingling around. Waiters dip in and out of the party goers, the alcohol and finger foods aplenty. Michonne and Maggie make it out onto her large patio that overlooks the pool. It's beautifully decorated. White lights are strung up along the trees and landscape as the water of the pool glints and glimmers from the moonlight. Large water lilies with white flowers float along the top of the water, being pushed in either direction from the gentle wind.

"I gotta give it to you Mags," Michonne starts, looking around as she finishes up her champagne, "You know how to throw a party."

Maggie curtseys, "Thank you ma'me. That's high praise coming from you."

"Well, here you are. I've been looking for you doll." Negan says, coming up on the two, "You hidin' from me?"

"I wouldn't dare," Maggie flirts, swatting at his chest, "Michonne, this is the loud mouth Negan Blacksmith from earlier and his friend Daryl Dixon from California."

Michonne waves and smiles at the two men, who are clearly only interested in pulling Maggie away, "So Daryl and I are very interested in this um, what do you call it doll?" Negan starts, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows at Michonne.

"Lifestyle." Maggie drags out, her green eyes lit up like Christmas trees.

"Yeah, lifestyle, that's it. You want to come explain it to us again?" Negan says, poking out his arm to allow her to latch on.

Maggie laughs again, shaking her head at Michonne, "I swear, lawyers are the absolute worst. They overanalyze everything. You'll be alright girl?" She asks, looping an arm around Daryl's waist as she takes Negan's arm.

"I'll be fine." Michonne laughs, "Have fun."

Maggie shimmies her shoulders a little before turning on her heel and ushering her two new boy toys back into the crowd. Michonne finds a server and grabs another flute of champagne before leaning over the railing to gaze out over the pool.

"It's a beautiful night tonight, isn't it?"

A deep voice startles her and she turns her head to find the owner. He's slightly taller than her as he stands in his dark blue suit. His hair is dark, but sprinkled with silver as it curls by his ears. His beard is more white than dark but it suits him well. His eyes are bluer than anything she's ever seen and quite frankly, she's taken aback. Maggie didn't do him justice, "Rick, Rick Grimes." He says after a moment, extending his hand to her.

Michonne lays her hand in his and shakes it lightly, a stupid, half-drunk smile playing on her lips, "Uh, Michonne. Sorry. Yeah, it's uh, it's a beautiful night."

"Maggie has a knack for throwing these things on some on the most beautiful nights of the year. It's like the skies clear for her or something. Where is she by the way?"

Michonne chuckles, glancing over her shoulder, "She's schmoozing with a few people. Negan and Daryl."

"Ah, yeah. She told me about them." He says, playing with his glass of dark liquid, "So, you're the one that's off limits?"

She nods her head, laughing again, "That's me, self-professed square extraordinaire. This lifestyle doesn't exactly jive with my… squareness."

He laughs genuinely and she glances back up at him over the rim of her champagne flute. He's beautiful. His eyes crinkle on the sides as he chuckles and the sound alone of that laugh is enough to make any girl weak, "If you don't mind me asking," he starts, leaning against the railing in front of them, "What exactly are you doing here then? I mean, this is a mix and mingle for subs and Doms."

"Uh, truth be told, Maggie just wanted to get me out of my apartment. I'm not the most social butterfly."

"Really?" He asks, surprised at her description of herself, "You don't strike me as a recluse."

"Oh trust me, I didn't used to be." She drops her eyes to her hands as memories of her old self pushes toward the front of her mind, "Life." She chuckles sadly, "I'm glad I came though. I'm actually having a pretty good time."

"Well that's good. Pretty girls should always have a good time." He offers smoothly, cocking his head to the side slightly, a smile spreading on his lips as she can't help the smile that greets her own face.

A silence drops over the two of them but it's not an awkward one. It's kind of nice, like, they've known each other for ages, "So um, you're an architect?" Michonne finally says, turning toward him.

"I'm on the construction side. I just build, I don't design."

"That's right," Michonne nods, remembering the article on him that she reread while getting their hair done, "You originally went to school to be an architect but liked the actual constructing better."

Rick raises his eyebrows, taking a slow drink before smirking at her, "Are you stalking me Michonne?"

"No," she laughs, "Maggie made me read that article about you in Atlanta magazine. It was an interesting read by the way, at least you're not boring."

He chuckles again and she shifts slightly, feeling the butterflies floating around in her belly, "There's a magic about building something with your hands. Taking raw materials and turning it into something completely different is what I really enjoy. Being able to step back and look at a structure and say, I did that; it gets me off." He laughs lightly, looking down at his hands, "But thank you by the way. I'm glad I didn't bore you to death while reading about me. I'm sure that's high praise."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Michonne laughs, starting to feel more and more comfortable with the blue-eyed stranger.

Rick shrugs, "You just seem like a woman who knows what she's talking about, that's all."

"Psssh, not in the slightest. I am so out of my league here."

Rick tilts his head again as he watches her giggle and push some of her hair out of her face. She catches his lingering stare and shifts a little, covering her smile with her long fingers, "Why did you do that?" He asks suddenly, quietly.

His question catches her off guard. Her eyes widen a bit as she looks back at him, catching those eyes of his again. She wants to look away but she can't. It's like she's frozen in that stare, "Um, do, do what?" She stumbles over her words, suddenly flush as heat begins to travel through her.

"Cover your smile." He starts, those eyes still baring into her, "You shouldn't, it's beautiful."

She glances away, letting out a nervous giggle as she tucks a few of her dreads behind her ear. It's been a while since she's been called beautiful. A lot longer than she's actually realized, "Thank you." She whispers.

Rick raises his glass to his lips once more, taking another slow sip, "You're welcome." He continues to watch her as she avoids all eye contact with him. She's cute, she really is; and what he likes most about her is that she doesn't even know it, "So what do you do Michonne?"

"Uh, I have a comic book slash coffee shop in the city." She answers, glancing at him slightly before returning her attention to her now empty champagne flute.

"The Flashpoint Paradox?"

Her dark eyes shoot up to his as he recalls her modest place, "Maggie told you?" She wonders aloud.

"No, I drive by there almost every day. I've been meaning to stop in." He affirms, "That's an interesting name, Flashpoint Paradox.

"Yeah, it's um, it's one of my favorite storylines from DC. It kind of runs through multiple comics like uh, The Flash, Batman, The Justice League. It's all about an alternate reality. How changing one small detail can throw the rest of the universe into a tail spin."

A small smile tugs at the corners of Rick's lips as he listens to her, picking up on her subtleties and her interest in alternate realities. She speaks so fondly of it, almost as if she wishes she could change a small detail about her life to escape it all. Interesting indeed, "Sorry," she laughs lightly, "I didn't mean to nerd out."

"It's quite alright, I do the same with construction, although, that is just slightly less interesting than the war between Aquaman and Wonder woman." He sarcastically expresses, proud of himself for drawing yet another smile from the pretty girl before him.

"You don't strike me as a comic reader." She laughs nervously.

"I'm not, but I like a good cup of coffee and I'm always interested in learning new things."

Another hush falls over them and Michonne finds herself stuck in that stare. She swallows deeply as her nerves run rampant through her, bringing goosebumps to her smooth skin. "Well, well, well, lookie what we have here." Maggie's voice sounds behind them and Michonne silently thanks the good Lord, "My two favorite people have found each other." She leans into Rick, hugging him tightly as she beams up at him, "Darling, you look amazing. Japan was good to you."

"Eating nothing but noodles and sushi for three months will do that to you. You look beautiful Maggie."

"Ohhh," she says, swatting at him, "So, what are you two talking about?" She bites her bottom lip and wiggles her eyebrows a little at Michonne.

"We were just talking about Michonne's comic book shop and how I've been meaning to stop in." Rick comments, wrapping a loose arm around Maggie but keeping his eyes on Michonne.

"Well, now you have a reason to. Michonne is there every day, from dawn til dusk." Maggie smiles widely at Michonne but is met back with an eye roll.

Rick laughs at their silent exchange, "How are you two friends? You seem so different."

"Hey now," Maggie steps away from him, taking his drink from him and taking a sip, "We are soul mates, Michonne and I."

"Opposites really do attract I guess." Michonne adds.

"That's right," Maggie grins again, her southern accent really shining through, "Rick, you wouldn't mind terribly if I borrow her for a minute, would you? I'll bring her right back, I promise."

"Sure thing, take your time."

Maggie grabs Michonne by the hand and drags her back into the house, grabbing two glasses of wine from a server before leading them into one of her many bathrooms, "What is wrong with you?" Michonne laughs as Maggie plops down on the toilet seat, fanning her face.

"Girl, I've outdone myself this time." She takes a swig of her wine before setting it on the counter, "I've got a new date! Well, two actually."

"Oh god, you got 'em both?"

Maggie nods emphatically, "Negan is totally on board with the whole thing, he is a real freak." She states emphatically, "Daryl is still a little iffy but they both want to come to the club with me next weekend to get a little taste of Domination. I am so good though, I got Daryl thinking about getting an apartment here in Atlanta for some weekend getaways."

"Wow," Michonne nods, genuinely impressed, "I can't even get a dude to open a door for me and you got men moving across the country. That is depressing."

Maggie laughs loudly, "Shut up. You fail to realize that you were just talking to the most eligible bachelor in the fucking city, right? That was you!"

"Can I tell you something?" Michonne asks, leaning against the counter, "He is fucking gorgeous."

"Isn't he?! I told you!" Maggie gabs back, slapping Michonne on her hip.

Michonne rests her hand on her collarbone as she thinks about those blue eyes again, "I mean, he looks at you and you just… it's like you can't move, you know? You don't want too."

Maggie nods slowly, knowing exactly what Michonne is explaining, "Almost like he's trying to get into your soul, right?"

"Yes! Hell, that is terrifying."

"But a total turn on."

Michonne shoots her eyes toward her friend, chuckling, "Can you stop?"

"You should tell him to stop by the shop sometime!"

Michonne's mouth drops open, "No way! No fucking way Maggie."

"Why not? You guys looked like you were hitting it off!"

Michonne laughs again, "You misread the situation. He's bored and was looking for you, that's the only reason he stopped to talk to me."

"That is not true, I resent that on his behalf. Rick isn't at all like that. If he's talking to you, that means he wants to talk to you. Something about you caught his eye."

Michonne scoffs but deep down, she can't help the smile that threatens to break out on her face. The most eligible bachelor in town. He could have his pick of any woman at this party, who would gladly do anything he asked for, but there he was, talking to her.

"You really do look great tonight Chonne."

Michonne rolls her head toward Maggie and smiles softly, "Thanks babe. You know, I'm actually having fun here, it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

"See? We may be a bunch of degenerates but we have manners too. What did you think was going to happen here? A giant orgy or something?"

"Well, I never know with you." Michonne giggles.

"Oh hush." Maggie scolds as she stands, collecting her wine glass and linking arms with Michonne as they exit the bathroom. They laugh and talk aimlessly as they make their way back out onto the patio, where Michonne is actually shocked to still see Rick standing in the same spot where they left him, "You see? I know how to keep promises." Maggie coos at him.

"I can see that," He smiles right back, "I hope you weren't talking about me."

"Oh, you know us girls. So, how long are you going to be in town Rick? We need to have dinner some time, I've missed you!"

"I'll be here for a while, hopefully. Everything is on track in Japan so, they shouldn't need me until they are just about finished up."

"So we're talking…" Maggie trails off.

"A year," He chuckles, "Maybe more, but that assumes that nothing goes majorly wrong that I can't handle with a phone call."

"Well that is good news! I finally get my tennis partner back." Maggie smiles again, rubbing his arm affectionately.

"What are you going to do in the mean time? Just chill out or," Michonne pipes up, taking a sip of her wine.

"Um, I've actually put in a few bids around town. A few restaurants and apartment buildings. You know Solis Downwood, in Buckhead?" Michonne's mouth drops open as Maggie laughs loudly, clapping her hands, "What?" He questions, his eyes darting back and forth between the two women.

"I live there."

Rick raises his brows again, smirking all the while, "You're kidding?"

"No," she laughs, "I didn't even know they were looking at revamping the place."

"They wanted to keep it quiet until they make a final decision. They didn't want to freak out their tenants prematurely if they decided to back out of the whole thing."

"Smart. So, if you don't mind me asking, how close are they to making a decision?" Michonne asks.

"Super close, actually. I should hear something within the next week. It's between myself and two other construction companies but I think I've got 'em beat."

Maggie watches her two friends, her eyes lighting up as she spots the potential of the two blossoming, "Isn't that something? You two basically know each other without knowing each other. Weird how that works, huh?"

"You certainly got that right." Rick chimes in, flicking his eyes back toward the no longer timid Michonne once more, "Serendipitous indeed."

He links eyes with Michonne again, causing her to smile back in return. _This guy is something else._ A phone begins to chime loudly and Rick pulls his sleek iPhone from his pocket, "Excuse me ladies."

They wait until he takes a few steps away before Maggie swats Michonne's arm excitedly, "Ouch! What the hell man?"

"Do you see what is happening here? You cannot be blind!" Maggie hisses.

"What? What is going on here?"

"He knows about your shop, you live in the very same apartment building that he has a bid in on."

"They are just coincidences Maggie." Maggie widens her eyes and tightens her jaw, her famous death glare, "Maggie, he is looking for a submissive or whatever the hell you call it. That is not me."

"We don't know what he's looking for and these are not coincidences. I don't believe in coincidence."

"You also don't believe in monogamy but that doesn't mean that it doesn't exist!"

"Maggie," Rick starts as he walks back up to the pair of women, "I'm sorry babe, but duty calls. I have to go into my office for a bit, Mr. Yogomata is suddenly not very happy anymore."

"Oh," Maggie pouts, allowing him to kiss her lightly on her cheeks, "I've barely gotten to talk to you."

"I'm sorry doll, we'll have dinner, I promise." He says before turning his attention to Michonne. He extends his hand again and she accepts his, "Michonne, it was certainly a pleasure. I hope I get to see more of you, possibly?"

"Um, yeah, sure." She smiles nervously, "It was really nice meeting you Rick."

He offers one last breathtaking smile before he departs the two of them. They both turn to watch him leave, both cocking their heads slightly, "Grimes!" Maggie calls out, causing him to turn slightly just as he passes through the threshold of the house, "You still have the best ass in Atlanta."

Michonne gasps as Rick throws his head back, loudly wildly at her stupid joke, "I'll call you Maggie."

"Yeah, you better."

The two women stand in silence as he moves through the rest of the party and eventually disappears, "You are such a skank skeezer!" Michonne says after a minute, laughing as Maggie shrugs, "I can't believe you said that out loud!"

Maggie grabs her wrist once more and begins pulling her down by the pool, "Let's see what Negan and Daryl are up to, shall we?"

"Oh God." Michonne groans, slamming her free hand into her face, "I'm telling you right now, I am not joining in on any freaky shit so you keep my name out of your mouth! You hear me?"

"I will certainly try, but I make zero promises. Unbutton this damn jacket, will you?" She turns abruptly, undoing Michonne's jacket to reveal her tight corset like top, "Let those titties out!"

"Maggie, I mean it! No foursomes!" Maggie doesn't even pretend to hear her as she pulls them up to her new friends, "Maggie!"

Daryl turns his head toward them as they approach, a sly grin spreading on his face, "Did someone say foursome?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! Had a super crazy week at work, but here is chapter 4! Thank you all again for continuing to read, review, follow, and favorite! Love you guys!**

* * *

 **Four.**

Michonne slides a few comics back on the shelf before turning back toward the counter behind her. Her little place is packed today, causing her to call in Beth and Noah, who are both happy for the extra money. Michonne grabs the coffee that she abandoned a few minutes before and takes a sip, checking her phone quickly before she returns to her favorite graphic novel. She leans against the counter, smiling softly to herself as she reads through the panels of the latest release, losing herself in the make-believe world. Beth mans the cash register as Noah keeps up with the drink orders, sliding a fresh vanilla Frappuccino toward Michonne once he's caught up.

"You know, we can handle it Michonne. Why don't you take off for a while?" Noah asks, wiping down the counter before leaning against it to watch his boss scrunch up her face.

"And go where exactly?"

"To the mall, or the movies, or take a walk or something. Gosh lady, live a little." Beth quips, smiling as she hands some change to a patron, "We got it."

Michonne eyes the two of them, smirking at their young faces, "Have you two been talking to Maggie? Cuz you're beginning to sound a lot like her."

"Well, now that you mention it," Beth starts, shrugging her shoulders and laughing as Noah tosses a balled-up napkin toward her, "What? Just go, will ya? We've got it, this is nothing that we haven't seen before."

Michonne sighs loudly, but a nap does sound pretty good. She was here earlier than usual this morning, her curiosity getting the best of her of how Beth and Noah handled the place over the weekend. They can handle it. They're both good kids. She glances back up at them and laughs as their wide eyes look back at her, large smiles on their faces, "Okay, okay, just let me finish my comic first will you? I just have a few pages more."

"Then you'll be out of our hair?" Noah asks.

"Yes, smart ass."

"Deal."

Michonne eyes him as he turns his attention toward another customer, and she chuckles again before resuming her lean against the counter. She loses herself in the comic once more as Noah and Beth shuffle around her and people continue to enter and leave the shop during the busy afternoon. She flips the page slowly as she takes another drink of her Frapp, not even noticing the door chime once more as someone enters. She bites down on her lip as she lowers her chin into the palm of her hand as someone joins the line of customers just ahead of her.

"Is that one good?" A voice chirps up, drawing her attention to it. She drags her eyes up slowly, slightly annoyed until they land on the one and only Rick Grimes. Her eyes widen at him as he smiles back at her, his eyes twinkling in the sunlight, "Hey."

Michonne springs up, blinking slowly as Noah and Beth both stare back at her. They've never seen her at a complete loss of words before, "Um, hey. Hi. Wow. Uh," She fumbles over her words once more as she reaches up to wipe her forehead nervously.

"What? You didn't think I was going to stop by?"

She shakes her head, "No," she laughs nervously, "I honestly didn't think you'd remember my name."

He chuckles again and she takes notice of the crinkles on either side of her eyes again. Beth drags her big blue eyes between her flabbergasted boss and the sexy older man in front of her before she offers a bright smile, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure, yeah." Rick pulls his eyes from Michonne after a second to glance up at the hand-written drink menu on the chalkboards above them.

Michonne takes him in as he stands before her. He must have just left his office because he's dressed in another form fitting black suit but still looks as casual as a guy in a pair of jeans. His dark jacket is unbuttoned, along with the top couple of buttons on his crisp, white collared shirt. His hair is slicked back, his unruly curls shaping around his ears once more as he drags his large hand through them as he makes up his mind on his coffee. Michonne glances down at herself and rolls her eyes quickly. Here he is, dressed up in a five-thousand-dollar suit, and she's in a pair of high waisted Old Navy shorts and plain ass white t shirt that she probably bought at Walmart. She peeks over the counter at his shiny loafers and then down at her ratty old black Chucks and scoffs lightly to herself. Shit.

"Let me try the Joker's Adversary and can I have a blueberry muffin please? Thanks, darlin'."

He pulls out his wallet but Michonne hold out her hand, "You don't have to do that. It's on the house."

"Don't be silly." He winks at her and Michonne could just melt. She places her hand to her chest, grabbing at her necklace and begins pulling the M along the chain.

Beth slides his card and hands it back to him before turning quickly to grab a muffin to hand him, "Noah will have your drink in no time, hope you enjoy."

He smiles back at her before turning his attention back to Michonne, "You never answered my question."

She drops the necklace back against her and swallows harshly, "What question?"

He points toward her still open comic book, "Is it good? The comic?"

"Oh yeah," she chuckles nervously, "Yeah, it's uh, one of my favorites right now and the guy is local too, so."

"Small business that promotes other small businesses. I love it." Rick comments before glancing around her place.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm sorry but, you're Rick Grimes, right? The construction guy?" Noah says, turning to face him as he makes Rick's drink.

"That's me."

"Oh man," Noah smiles, "Sorry, but you are a legend at my school. I'm studying architecture and the advancements that your company has made in construction are just incredible. Our teacher gushes about you all the time, he even made us read that article on you in the Atlanta magazine. I would love to design for you one day." He closes his eyes as his last sentence slips out, "Sorry, that was weird." He laughs.

"No, no. Thank you so much, that means a lot. What year are you in?"

"I'm in my third year. I should actually be starting to look for internships."

Rick digs into his inner jacket pocket and pulls out a small white card, handing it to the young man, "Call my receptionist and set up a meeting with me next week. I'll find something for you."

"Oh my god," Noah gushes as he takes the card, "Holy shit, I mean, sorry, shit. Sorry! God, thank you Mr. Grimes. I, holy shit man."

Michonne laughs as she slaps his shoulder a few times, "Calm down man, calm down."

"No this is incredible. Thank you so much, this means so much. Thank you."

Rick continues to bestow the most brilliant smile upon the three of them, "Not a problem. Under one condition though."

"Anything, you name it Mr. Grimes." Noah says giddily, ready to lay his life on the line for him.

"Michonne has to sit and talk to me for a while." He slides his eyes back toward her, that slow ass sexy smile spreading on his pink lips once more.

Noah whips his head toward her, widening his eyes as she doesn't move, "Michonne. The man wants to talk to you."

Michonne takes another deep breath but holds it in as she smiles a toothless smile at him. She grabs her drink from the counter and closes her book and steps out from behind her only shield, "You wanna sit outside or?"

"I would. After you."

Michonne turns back toward Beth, who is grinning like an idiot and Noah, who is staring down at the business card in complete disbelief. Michonne grabs a loose dread from her pony tail and rings it around her finger as she steps out into the sunlight. She chooses an empty table and sits quickly, watching her cup like it's going to run off as Rick takes the seat in front of her. He takes a sip of his drink and moans a little, making Michonne shoot her eyes up to him, "That is really good." He says after a moment, "What's it called again?"

"The Jokers' Adversary. It has a hint of-"

"Cinnamon." He finishes for her, "I like it."

"Thanks."

"You've got a great place here, and you're packed, that's always a good sign. Congrats."

She nods, "Thanks. I honestly wouldn't have any of it if it weren't for Maggie. She leant me to money to start this place about a year ago."

"You've only been open a year and you have all of this business already? That is incredible."

"Oh stop," She starts, flicking her hand at him.

"I mean it! It takes years to gain clientele like this, especially businesses that rely on word of mouth. You tapped into something really special." He tilts his head to the side, resting his hand on his cup as he eyes her, "Or you are just a really great business woman."

"It's definitely not the second thing." She laughs lightly, "I'm just making it up as I go along." She nods her head toward the blueberry muffin, "Try the muffin."

She watches as he rips open the cellophane and peels back the wrapping. She places her chin back into her palm and rests her elbow against the small table. He tears off a small piece and puts it into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chews it slowly. She smiles widely as he shakes his head, immediately grabbing another piece to drop into his mouth, "This is delicious. You make them?"

"Nope, they're local too. Sasha's Bakery right up the street."

Rick rubs his hands together, nodding again slowly, "Keeping your expenses low by going local. You are smarter than you're letting on Michonne." She shrugs and he chuckles, "I might have to steal you away and hire you."

"I don't know anything about anything except for comics and law."

"Law?" He asks, leaning back, throwing an arm behind his chair. She doesn't answer right away. She shouldn't have said anything at all. She drops her eyes from his and begins twirling her cup around, praying that he'll change the subject, "Don't get shy on me now, girl."

She looks back up at him, her brown eyes soft as the gears in her mind continue to grind, "I used to be a lawyer. Criminal, that is. I um, I used to work for the district attorney."

He senses that there is more to the story but it's something that she is clearly uncomfortable talking about, "Another story for another time, huh?"

"Another time?" She asks, smirking at him.

He smiles brightly back at her, "Yeah. I think you're kind of interesting Michonne, starting with that name. What is it?"

"French. My father was French."

"Do you speak French?"

"Yes." She answers simply, holding his strong gaze.

"Have you ever been to France?"

"Once, when I was like three. Don't remember much about it."

Rick listens intently as she speaks, taking slow sips of this coffee and finishing off his blueberry muffin, "Tell me more, are you from Atlanta or what?"

"So many questions," She giggles, "I feel like you're interviewing me."

"Maybe I am."

"For what?"

He flicks his eyes toward her, licking his bottom lip as he drops his eyes from her face to further down her body, "I haven't made up my mind yet."

He says it so calmly that she almost doesn't even catch the sexual innuendo that it's laced with at first. But once it sinks in, she grabs her necklace again and begins pulling the M along the chain, her mind spinning once more. He's making her nervous, but he likes that. She's sexy as all get out and he likes that too. He wants to pick her brain about the important things, like life and love and most of all, sex, but she's a bit timid still. Plus, being on the sidewalk in the middle of the afternoon is not the time, nor the place. He can't deny that his interest is peaked with the dark skinned beauty, and once Rick Grimes' interested is peaked, he won't stop until he's satisfied.

"Can I ask you a question?" Michonne asks, finishing off her drink before running a hand over her pony tail.

"Of course."

"Did Maggie tell you to come here?"

He clears his throat and readjusts in his seat, "She did not. I told you I've been meaning to stop in, I mean that." She shoots him a suspect look and he chuckles at her, "What?"

"It's okay, you can tell me."

"There's nothing to tell." He laughs a little more. She shakes her head again, squinting her eyes back at him causing him to throw up his hands, "Hand to God, she did not tell me to come here. I haven't even spoken to her since Friday."

"Then why are you here?" She asks, skeptically.

"Now that is telling." He says slyly, leaning back in toward the table, "Why do you think I'm here?"

She scoffs a little, "I'm trying to figure it out. I mean, we literally have nothing in common. We spoke for like fifteen minutes at the party, maybe."

"Why don't we have anything in common?"

She widens her eyes as her mouth drops open at the question, "You're a… a… you know." She says in a hushed toned, "I have nothing to do with that."

It's now Rick's turn to squint as he drops his voice to match her low tone, "What am I?"

She laughs a little at him, "You know what you are. I don't know what you want with me."

"Are you always this skeptical of people? Always thinking the worst?"

She squints her eyes again, "I'm not thinking the worst. It's just that I know Maggie, and she's been on my case for a while to get out and meet people. I'm not," She stops, looking away from him to glance across the street, "I'm not ready for all of that."

"Okay…" He says, trying to lead her on to keep talking.

"Listen, you are like the most eligible bachelor in the city as Maggie likes to put it. And you're here, sitting with me."

He tilts his head at her choice of words, all the while putting together the puzzle that is Michonne. She really doesn't know how cute she is. Another check mark in the 'pro' column. She definitely deserves dinner, "Have dinner with me." He says, completely ignoring her line of questioning.

Michonne glances away from him in shock, then links eyes with him once more, "What?" She asks flatly.

"Have dinner with me. Tomorrow night. What time do you close?"

She's silent for a moment as she processes this sudden shift in topic, "Did you not hear a word I just said?"

"I did and they were very interesting. You are very interesting and I want to know more." He says confidently, "Is tomorrow night okay? Around eight maybe?"

"I," She wants to continue to speak but the words just won't come, "Are all of you in this _lifestyle_ a little off? I mean, I thought it was just Maggie."

Her comment draws another laugh from him, "You could say that. So, tomorrow then?" He asks for a third time, nodding his head yes, "Around eight? I'll come pick you up from here if that's easier for you?"

"You're serious."

Rick stands, shaking his head, "Yes. Tomorrow, eight o'clock, I'll be here and so will you." He pushes in his chair and tosses the packing of the blueberry muffin in the nearby trash can, "Thank you for the coffee. Tell Noah that I look forward to meeting with him."

Without another word, he heads off down the street, tipping his head back to finish off what was left of his Jokers' Adversary. She watches as he tosses it into another garbage can and shoves his hands in his pockets, no doubt whistling to himself as he rounds the corner. She sits there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what the hell just happened and how he seamlessly roped her into a date. She stands after a few minutes and heads back inside, where Noah and Beth watch as she heads back behind the counter to grab her phone from her purse.

"Noah, he's serious, he looks forward to talking with you." She says, before shoving her phone into her pocket and heading back into her office.

Noah punches the air a few times before turning quickly to pick up Beth and whirl her around in a circle. Michonne falls into her chair as her fingers tap furiously against the screen in her message to Maggie.

 **You wicked woman!**

 **Oh god, what I do now?**

 **Like you don't know! Guess who was just in here!**

 **Girl, if you don't quit…**

 **Maggie!**

 **What?! I don't know, I swear! I've been good today, scouts honor.**

 **Fucking Rick Grimes, that's who! You swear you didn't send him?**

Instead of getting a text in return, her phone begins to ring, "Maggie, I'm going to kill you!"

"He really went to see you? Are you joking?"

"No I'm not joking!" Michonne says harshly, turning a little in her chair to face away from the closed door, "Maggie, he wants to go to dinner with me."

She pulls the phone away from her face as Maggie shrieks loudly, "When, when, when?!"

"Tomorrow night at eight, he wants to pick me up from the shop."

"Say no more! You need to leave around five to shower and then meet me back up there at six to get you ready."

"Maggie," She sighs into the phone, her voice quiet and sad.

Maggie notes her tone, "What Michonne?"

"You swear you didn't tell him to come here? He did this all on his own?"

Maggie sighs into the phone, sitting up from her seated position on the floor as she swats Negan's hand away from her neck, "Boy if you don't… no Michonne, I did not tell him to go see you. I told you, if Rick wasn't interested, he wouldn't be talking to you. Why are you so worried about it?"

Michonne glances around the room, trying to stop from tearing up. Years ago, she would be jumping for joy at the idea of a date with a man like Rick. Now she's so self-conscious she can't even stand the attention, "Mich? Don't do this to yourself. You deserve this. He must really like you. There is nothing to not like about you, why can't you see that?"

"It's been three years."

Maggie stands quickly, glancing back at the still sleeping Daryl and the groggy Negan before heading into the bathroom for a little privacy, "I know it has baby. But you can't keep letting Mike get in the way of you living. Fuck that mother fucker. He's moved on, obviously, and so should you."

"But I don't know what Rick wants from me. I'm not you, I'm not comfortable with my body in that way."

"You don't have to be me. Just be you, you are enough. Plus, he knows you're not one of us, maybe he just wants to be friends. You are really overanalyzing this. It's just dinner."

"Yeah, but what if he wants something more? Maggie, I can't."

"Michonne, stop." Maggie says forcefully, "Now you listen here. Mike was a piece of fucking shit and in the end, you deserved so much better than him. His words meant and mean absolutely nothing anymore. You are beautiful, you are strong, you are confident and obviously, Rick agrees. You deserve this because you earned it. I didn't make Rick talk to you and I didn't tell him to come see you. I haven't even spoken to the guy since Friday. You are going to go out tomorrow and you are going to have fun. You are going to take it day by day and figure out what you want. Don't even worry yourself with what Rick wants, it doesn't matter."

Michonne nods her head, biting her lip as she closes her eyes lets her friends' words sink in. It's just dinner. Take it one day at a time, "Okay." She says breathlessly, letting out a calm breath, "Okay."

"Okay? If he makes you uncomfortable, which he won't, he is a perfect gentleman, but if he does, just call me and I'll come get you, alright? You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you that you don't want to happen."

"I know you wouldn't. Thank you."

"I love you Michonne."

"I love you too. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak out. I didn't mean to disturb your afternoon."

Maggie laughs lightly, "Don't you worry about that. I just got up anyway, things got a little crazy with Negan and Daryl this weekend."

"Oh hell," Michonne laughs, wiping under her eyes to rid the slight moisture that collected underneath them, "You slept with them already? That is not like you."

"No I did not! We just got a little drunk and before you know it, it's Monday afternoon."

"Okay, well I'll let you tend to them then. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes ma'me! Six o' clock, I'll be there. Don't you worry about a thing."

Michonne closes her eyes again, "Okay. I'll see you."

She hangs up and lets out another deep breath, dropping her head into her hands as she tries to calm her nerves. It's just dinner. It's just dinner. She can handle dinner. Right?


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I hope you guys aren't getting bored, I'm trying not to rush these interactions with Rick and Michonne. So, I'm going to continue to torture you all with a slow burn like Gimple did to us for three seasons, ha! But, the good stuff is _cuming_... I promise ;)**

* * *

 **Five.**

"This is entirely too tight!" Michonne whines, pulling at the material of this really tiny, really tight, really short black dress.

Maggie stands to her side, going over her lips with a matte red lipstick before throwing it back in her makeup bag, "Shut up and stop moving, will you? I'm almost done." Maggie turns slightly, glancing over her shoulder, "Beth? What time is it?"

"Seven forty-three." The college aged girl calls from behind the counter, counting the daily till and shoving it into the clear bank bag.

"Shit." Maggie swears lightly, patting at Michonne's cheeks with some foundation, "Okay, close your eyes."

Michonne obliges and lets Maggie add some gold eyeshadow before smoothing it out with her finger to remove the excess. She pulls off a perfect smoky eye and adds the mascara and eye liner before tossing the makeup to the side. She pulls out some expensive earrings and loops them through Michonne's ears, then starts throwing her dreads over her shoulder, "Up or down?"

"Up." Michonne answers.

"Down." Maggie counters, picking at certain dreads as she rearranges them, "Stop pulling at my dress!"

"It's too short!"

"Stop complaining! Women would kill for this figure that you love to cover up." Maggie reaches into her purse and pulls out her favorite perfume, turning Michonne to face her. She sprays her neck, chest, and wrist, motioning her to rub her wrists together to spread the sweet smell before she pulls out a pair of black, velvet stilettos.

Michonne steps into them, resting her hand on Maggie's shoulder as she bends over to clip them up for her. Maggie stands and steps behind Michonne once more, checking out her reflection in the mirror in front of them. She smiles widely at her handiwork, "You look great." Michonne scoffs, "Stop it, you do. Now, here's your clutch," She says, shoving Michonne's phone and credit card in it before handing it to her, "If you need me, just call. Beth?"

"Seven fifty-two."

"Hell, I gotta go. He can't see me without my face on." Maggie quips, throwing her stuff into her Gucci backpack and slinging it over her shoulder.

Both women walk out of the bathroom and Beth nearly combusts at the sight of Michonne, "You look fantastic!"

"Really?" Michonne asks, "You think so?"

"Yes! You look beautiful. He isn't going to be able to keep his hands off you."

"Oh great." Michonne rolls her eyes, "You all finished?"

"I am indeed." Beth answers back, grabbing the bank bag and her backpack, "You just need to lock the door behind you. Noah is going to open tomorrow and I'll be in around nine. Have fun tonight."

"Thank you, tell Noah I said thanks too." She waves off the young blonde as she heads out before turning to Maggie and giving her one last hug, "Thanks again."

"Not a problem. I mean it, you call me if you need me. Just have fun and be you. That's all that counts." Maggie kisses her on her cheek, "But in all seriousness, I have to go. Even when he and I play tennis, I have a full face on."

Michonne laughs as Maggie scurries out of the shop, leaving Michonne with just her nerves and thoughts. She pulls out her phone and starts browsing through her social media, glancing nervously at the time every chance she can get. The door chimes and her breath catches in her throat. She looks up and there he is, looking as dapper as ever.

"Right on time." Michonne breaks the ice, dropping her phone back into her clutch.

"It's a nasty habit." He looks her up and down, visually taking a breath as he eyes her, "You look incredible."

She sinks into herself a little, rubbing her face with her hand as he ogles her, "You're one to talk. You look great yourself."

"You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

He pushes open the door for her, letting his eyes wander over her bare legs as she steps passed him. He steps out behind her and Michonne locks the door, tossing her keys into her clutch. Rick extends his arm toward her, encouraging her to loop her arm through as they cross the street. He leads her to a brand new black Tesla Model S. She laughs a little as he guides her to the passenger's side, watching as the flush door handles pop out as he approaches, "God, this thing probably costs more than my rent for the year."

"I'll let you drive it sometime." He winks at her as she slides into the cool leather seat.

She watches as he jogs across the front of the car and joins her, sliding into his own seat and tossing the keys into one of the cup holders, "You barely know me and you'd let me drive this?"

He steps on the brake and pushes the start button before turning toward her slightly, "I trust you."

Her mouth drops open, her face full of amusement, "It's the money that makes you all crazy, isn't it?"

He laughs loudly before pulling them away from the curb, the car purring so softly that you'd think it wasn't on at all. He guides them through the city with ease, Drake's _Fake Love_ playing softly through the radio. Michonne glances over at him as he drives, a smile playing on her lips. This guy really knows how to pick a suit. He's in a dark grey, slim fit suit, the lapels and pockets black in color. He's accentuated it with a light blue button down and a simple black skinny tie. Every strand of hair is in place, those curls practically calling her name.

"You listen to Drake?" She pipes up after a few moments, the combination of his cologne, his outer appearance, and the fact that he likes Drake becoming a little too much for her to handle.

"I love Drake, don't you?"

She shrugs, "Yeah, I just, wouldn't have pegged you as a hip hop, rap kinda guy."

He smiles and glances over at her quickly before turning his attention back toward the road, "Why? Cause I'm white?"

"No!" She laughs, enjoying this freak's sense of humor, "You just don't look like a guy that listens to Drake, that's all. Geez."

He nods with sarcasm, pursing his lips a little, "It's cause I'm white, it's cool."

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head but let's more giggles escape as she relaxes a little bit more. Within a few minutes more, they pull up to Kyma, the most exclusive restaurant in the city. Rick jumps out first, throwing the keys to the valet before opening her car door for Michonne, offering his hand to help her out of the low vehicle. She adjusts her dress slightly, pulling it down a little before she links arms with him again as he whisks them inside the packed eatery. He pulls them to the awaiting hostess, a big smile on her face.

"Mr. Grimes, how lovely to see you again."

"Thank you Talia, is our table ready?"

"They just finished it up, right this way."

They're on the move again, weaving through tables as Talia leads them toward the back of the white and blue decorated restaurant. They head though a pair of double doors and enter a completely different atmosphere. The light is dim, the ceiling painted a dark blue with small white lights representing stars lighting it up. Michonne's heels click against the white tile floor as Talia leads them to a booth in the corner. Rick holds Michonne's hand dutifully as she situates herself in the booth, before heading to his side as Talia hold out the menu.

"Apollo will be your waiter tonight but can I get you started with a drink or a bottle of wine?" Talia asks.

Rick looks up a Michonne, quietly awaiting an answer, "Um, wine, please?"

"Red or white?" He asks.

"Um, red?" She more asks, then answers.

He smiles softly, "It's okay, get what you want."

She laughs nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I don't know much about wine."

"We'll start with two glasses of Sassicaia." He looks up at Talia before turning his attention back to his suddenly nervous again date, "If you don't like it, we'll try another. Okay?"

Michonne nods and flicks her eyes back at Talia, "Sounds perfect. Apollo will be right with you."

Rick watches as the brunette walks back toward the kitchen before returning his gaze on Michonne. He just watches her for a moment as she glances over the menu, playing with that necklace once more. He wonders what it means to her. She must wear it every day and it seems to be a source of comfort for her once she's nervous or pensive. His eyes narrow on her slightly as her hair dangles over her bare shoulders, her skin seemingly radiating under the dim light. He shifts slightly as his wicked thoughts begin to run rampant. _Take your time Grimes._

Apollo appears at the table a few moments later, placing two glasses of wine and a plate of grilled pita bread with three spreads in front of them, "Welcome to Kyma, my name is Apollo and I will be your server tonight. Are we going to do the Meze Menu or the Meze Dinner tonight?"

"The Meze Dinner please." Rick answers smoothly.

"Perfect," Apollo coos, "I can start you with three appetizers and a salad to share."

"May I order for us or is there something you'd like try?" Rick asks.

She looks up, secretly happy that he's decided to take charge, "I trust you." She smirks, mirroring his sentiments from earlier in the evening.

He licks that plump bottom lip before shooting her a sexy, yet mischievous glare, "Let's go with the roasted oysters, baby calamari and the Greek fries for appetizers and the horiatiki salad."

"Great choices sir," Apollo nods, not writing down a stitch of what was relayed to him, "Would you like me to start your main courses or do we need a few moments more?"

Rick glances back at her but she shrugs, holding up her hands as she smiles, "Filet mignon for the lady and lamb for me."

Apollo nods again, "Excellent choices sir. I'll get that right in and please, don't hesitate to grab my attention if you need anything."

Just as quickly as he arrives, Apollo is gone and the clean cut Michonne is left with the wolf dressed in sheep's clothing. She can feel his eyes on her again but instead of avoiding them, she lifts hers to meet his gaze. He smiles slowly at her, his eyes wandering over her once more, taking in all of her striking beauty.

"That was impressive." She says quietly, smiling just a little at him.

"I've been ordering for two for a while."

"Yeah, I bet." She chuckles, "I'd also bet that your antics get you laid quite often as well."

He chuckles in return, running his tongue over his teeth as his eyes dip toward her cleavage once more, "It doesn't quite work that way, but I get what where you're going. Yes, it does."

She smiles widely back at him. She can tell that he likes teasing her and usually she'd get irritated after a while but he's having the opposite effect on her, "What do you want from me?" She asks, watching him watch her.

He smiles again, taking a sip of his wine before sitting it back down on the table, "I haven't made up my mind yet. We'll get there soon enough." She rolls her eyes playfully but lifts her glass to her full lips. God, the things he'd like to do to that pretty mouth, "So tell me, how do you and the incomparable Maggie Greene know each other?"

Michonne hums slightly as she swallows her sweet yet sour red liquid, "We met back in high school. I was fifteen, she was twelve. I had snuck out one night to go to this seniors graduation party and she was there." Michonne laughs as the memories of that night, "She was the most hard core twelve year old I had ever met, let me tell you."

"That sounds about right." Rick agrees, chuckling himself.

"We've been thick as thieves ever since. She's like my sister."

"I can tell you are very special to her. She's really patient with you, the rest of us don't get that luxury from Ms. Greene."

Michonne giggles, "Yeah, that's my Maggie. She doesn't take any bullshit. I envy that about her."

Another puzzle piece for Rick to plug into the ever growing picture of Michonne. He tilts his head, noticing that she's lightened up a lot since their meeting yesterday, "Why?"

Once again, he's stunned her into silence. She shrugs a little, grabbing at her necklace, "I dunno, I guess, I'm not as assertive as she is. Not as confident."

 _Not anymore, anyway. What happened to you?_ Rick decides to not push the issue, knowing that she isn't at all comfortable enough to actually answer him if he presses. Instead, he decides to switch gears to something a little lighter, "You like the wine?"

"Oh yes, it's delicious. I think I've had it before with Maggie maybe. It kind of sounds familiar." She answers, sweeping her hair over her broad shoulder.

"I'll get the bottle next time Apollo shows up."

"You trying to get me drunk, Grimes?" Michonne asks, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe." He answers swiftly, never breaking eye contact with her. That stupid smirk on his face and intense look in his eyes makes her shift in her seat. She looks away from him, practically melting from his stare, "Am I making you nervous?" He asks coolly, that smile growing by the second.

"You like making me nervous." She breathes, releasing the air through her teeth.

He nods slowly, grabbing his glass of wine again and sipping on it slowly, glancing around the quiet room. Bingo. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you do it on purpose."

"You don't like it?" He asks quietly, that head tilting once more.

She doesn't answer verbally but she doesn't have to. She keeps her legs tightly closed but rocks her knees back and forth. Goosebumps have sprang up over that luscious dark skin more than once since they've sat down and her breathing has quickened underneath his stare. Not to mention, he can practically smell her arousal from here. They make small talk as they make their way through their appetizers and salad, Rick continuing to gather information about her without really revealing anything about himself.

Once the main course arrives, Michonne turns the tables on him, directing their conversation right where he's been wanting it to go, "So Rick, I've done an awful lot of talking." She says, stabbing a piece of her medium rare Filet mignon with her fork, "Your turn."

He cuts his lamb slowly, flickering his eyes up at her ever so often, "What would you like to know?"

"Anything?"

"Anything," He shrugs, plopping a piece of his tender meat in his mouth, "I'm an open book."

She chews her steak slowly, leaning back into the booth as she picks up her wine glass once more. She runs the glass over her lips a few times, watching him as he delicately collects his food on his fork, before eyeing her as he chews slowly, "What got you into this lifestyle?" She asks quietly, wanting to respect his privacy around their fellow restaurant goers.

"Interesting question Michonne." He starts, "Well, I've always been a control freak. From my earliest memories, I've just always had a strange need to be in control of myself and my things. As I got older, it just evolved into controlling others, if they'd let me."

"If they'd let you? What does that mean?" She asks with genuine interest.

He takes a deep breath, grabbing his wine and swirling it around in the glass before breathing it in, "I think I was fifteen when I first started dabbling with my then girlfriend, I just didn't know what it was. I didn't know there was a world out there dedicated to it. I would just tell her what to do, what I wanted her to do to me and she obliged. She loved it actually and so did I."

"Okay." She nods her head, her eyes glancing around as she tries to put everything together, "So, then how did you find out about this world? I mean, you didn't just wake up thinking huh, I think I'll become a Dominant."

He chuckles, "True. As I got older, into my twenties, I was, unsatisfied in monogamous relationships. It was hard finding women that wanted to engage with me in such a way. Plus, holding hands, going to the movies, moving in together, marriage, it just didn't appeal to me. Never really did. I wanted everything from a girlfriend, except for the girlfriend, so to speak."

"So you're a player, in other words. You just want to sleep around."

"Not at all," he shakes his head, taking another bite of food, "I once had a sub for eight and half years. I am very committed if I find what I like."

Michonne glances around, her gears working as she tries to process what he's telling her, "I don't get it then. Why can't you be in a relationship and still practice this? I mean, you said it yourself, your faithful if you find a girl that you like."

"It's more than just finding a girl that I like, it's about compatibility. We both have to want the same things."

"Which reaffirms my point even more. I get Maggie, she's wild, she always has been, that's why her dad was so strict on her. This is her way of bucking his rules and finding herself. I mean, she's so afraid of becoming her meek, play by the rules mother that she runs from anything remotely serious. But you, I don't get."

 _She's sexy and sharp_ , a few more notches in Michonne's favor, "I don't want the commitment."

Michonne laughs a little, putting her glass back down on the table, "But you have a commitment! You commit to these women you just don't," She trails off as the light bulb turns on above her head. Rick watches as she connects the dots, surprised at how quick her mind is, "You don't want to fall in love."

He points at her, nodding his head, "Bingo, and I don't want them falling in love with me."

"Why?" She asks breathlessly, resting her elbows on the table as she leans into him, her eyes squinted.

He shrugs, "It's pointless."

"Love is pointless? Wow, that is really cynical." She says, completely blown away.

"Love brings complication. I am a simple man with a very singular, particular taste. I don't need arguments and jealousy and unattainable expectations. I don't want to buy a house and a puppy and spit out three children. I don't want to have to explain myself, where I've been, who I'm with, how much money I've spent. I just want to pamper you and fuck you silly. That's all. I want to speak and I want you to obey. That fulfills me."

Michonne shakes her head, "I've never heard such a thing."

"It's not for everyone." He counters, "That's why you have to do your research, really learn what this life is about and if you can sustain with all it calls for."

Michonne pops a fry into her mouth, chewing it slowly as her mind races with questions, "Okay so you did research? What did you do? Internet, books, what?"

"A little of both, actually. There's some great literature out there about the origin of BDSM. Once I read up, I found a club in the city and I went from there."

"Worked your way up through the ranks huh?" She laughs a little, pushing some food around her plate, "I don't mean to sound judgmental or anything, I'm sorry if I come off that way."

Rick shakes his head, "You don't come off that way at all. Our life is strange, I can admit it. I'm just glad to be having an intelligent conversation about it for once. Most people think this is all about whips and chains and beatings, when it's not at all. Sometimes, for some Dominants, it's not even about the sex, that's just a payoff."

"Is it about the sex for you?" She asks quickly, her voice suddenly hushed again.

Ricks flicks his eyes toward her, that sly grin on playing on those pink lips once more, "Yes." He answers airily, confidently.

She inhales sharply as the word leaves his mouth. She stares back at him, grabbing her necklace once again and pulling the M emblem left and right, "Tell me one more thing."

"Yes?"

"You said that this fulfills you, right?" He nods, glancing back down at his plate, "What does your submissive get out of all of this?"

"You get all of me." He answers simply, causing Michonne to raise her eyebrows in wonder, "If you're good to me, I'll be very good to you, in every way imaginable."

Michonne bites her bottom lip as she stares back at him, all the air leaving her body. _If you're good to me, I'll be very good to you, in every way imaginable_. She opens her mouth to speak but the approaching Apollo make her shut it once more, "Are we ready for dessert?"

"Please. Michonne?"

"I'll have the Santorini chocolate lava cake please."

"And for you sir?"

"Yogurt and honey, thank you."

The two don't speak as Apollo clears the table and shares the rest of the bottle of wine between their glasses. Michonne waits until Apollo floats away again before picking back up on their conversation, "You keep saying you."

"I'm sorry?"

"You keep saying you, instead of her or she when speaking about your submissives." Michonne points out, playing with her bottom lip a little.

He shrugs defiantly, grinning again, "Freudian slip."

"You sure about that?"

"Do you want me to be?" She doesn't answer and he laughs out of amusement, "Cat got your tongue?"

"Stop it." She delivers quietly, averting her eyes from him.

"Stop what?" He whispers.

"You know what." She laughs a little, tucking a dread behind her ear as she lowers her eyes from his, "You're teasing me again."

"I like teasing you." He answers softly, rubbing his hands together.

Their desserts come moments later and the conversation shifts once more to music and movies. Rick almost doesn't want the night to end, he's having such a good time. He can't remember the last time that this has happened. The last time he was actually interested in both a woman's mind and body simultaneously was, well, a very, very long time ago. If his mind wasn't made it up at the beginning of the evening, it certainly is now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Well, I am certainly glad you all aren't dying of boredom, lol. Thanks for reassuring me! I just want to warn you, that I'm going into a peak at work, 12 hr shifts, working all weekend, and all that jazz, so it *might* be a while before I can update again. This is not a hiatus, I promise you! If all goes smooth, and I'm back to my regular hours by next Friday, all should be fine and I should have another update just in time for the 7b premiere :).  
**

* * *

 **Six.**

 _If you're good to me, I'll be very good to you, in every way imaginable._ Michonne bites her lip as her vision tunnels onto the wall of comics in front of her. She pulls the M along the thin gold chain around her neck as her mind wanders about the infamous Rick Grimes. _I just want to pamper you and fuck you silly._ Who even says that to another human being? But she can't deny that ever since he dropped her off last night, she's been consumed with thoughts of… him. Of him and her. Of his dominance and her sudden want to submit. _Where is this even coming from_ , she wonders, _you don't even know him. This is completely against everything you've ever known._

The more his words sunk in though, the more fascinated she became about it all. She straightens up a little from her spot behind the coffee bar, bringing the M up to her lips. _Is it all about the sex for you? Yes._ Just the way he said yes was dripping in sexuality; she couldn't imagine what he would actually be like in _the_ moment. Standing tall in front of her, in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs as those blue orbs roam slowly, hungrily over her naked, tied up form.

"Oh my god," She whispers to herself, shaking her head quickly before dropping her necklace back against her chest.

 _Grow up!_ Her mind hisses as she exhales harshly out of frustration. She needs to find something to do to keep herself from drawing out these stupid fantasies. It's slow but steady at the shop, Noah leaning against the counter as he sketches on his grid paper, before scratching down notes to himself on his notepad, "Whatcha doin?" Michonne asks, leaning over his shoulder a little to try and make heads or tails of his elaborate design.

"I have a project due in a couple days. I have to design a modern, self-sufficient, one story house so, I'm trying to sketch out some ideas. Hey!" He perks up, dropping his pencil and turning toward her, "Rick actually took that meeting with me!"

"Well, he did say that he was serious about seeing you."

Noah shakes his head, a shocked smile covering his face, "You have no idea how incredible this is. I could possibly end up interning for a living legend."

She laughs a little at his enthusiasm, but she's proud of him all the same, "Not possibly, you will! You are very talented and if Rick isn't a complete idiot, he'll see that. When's your meeting?"

"Next Wednesday, which reminds me. You wouldn't mind if I took next Tuesday off? Just so I can get all of my sketches together for Wednesday?"

Michonne shrugs him off, "Of course not. I can handle the place by myself. "

Noah smiles in gratitude, "Thanks Michonne, for everything. Really."

Michonne returns the gesture, rubbing his shoulder a bit before excusing herself into her office. She plops down in her chair and brings her Mac to life, about to crunch some numbers when her phone dings from her purse. She grabs it, her eyes still scanning her computer screen as she brings up her QuickBooks. She glances down at the phone quickly, but does a double take when his name flashes at the top of the incoming text message.

 **Hello gorgeous.**

When he asked for her number the night before, she didn't think he'd be texting her so soon. I mean, aren't you supposed to wait a few days? Or is she just getting really old? _God, I'm so out of touch._ She presses her thumb against the home button to enter her messages and begins typing a tentative reply.

 **Hey there.**

 **Did I tell you how much of a good time I had last night? If I didn't, I had a really good time with you last night ;)**

She smiles, shaking her head a little.

 **I had a great time too. I've never had Greek before, so, thank you.**

 **Not a problem**

 **I didn't scare you, did I?**

 **Scare me?**

 **With all of the lifestyle talk. I want you to be comfortable with me.**

 _I want you to be comfortable with me._ Michonne glances around her office as she tries and fails to come up with a response to him. She wouldn't say she was scared off, not in the slightest. What worries her is what he's buttering her up for. What does he want from her?

 **I did, didn't I?**

Her eyes scan over the last message but she still hesitates to reply. She can't just come out and tell him that her mind has been preoccupied with him all day. That she was, at one point this morning, thinking about goggling BDSM. She even grabbed her laptop, opening Firefox and everything, but, at the last second, her fingers froze. She couldn't stand the judging glare of the Wikipedia globe. So, she shut her laptop harshly and threw it to the side, completely embarrassed and irritated with herself. She's getting in over her head already. This isn't a Michonne that she's comfortable with.

 **Michonne, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone there with you.**

She sighs, clicking her teeth a little as she starts to sway back and forth with the chair.

 **Don't be sorry. I was the one that brought it up.**

 **Still. I should have respected your boundaries. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.**

She's not ready. He thought he had her, he really did. He knew it was going to take a little coercion, a little more finesse to get her to open up but he at least thought that she was tipping in his favor. Now she's timid again, closing up before his very eyes. He drops the phone in frustration to his desk, turning around in his chair to gaze out upon the beautiful city of Atlanta from his high-rise office building. He runs his hands through his hair, upset at himself, at his boldness the previous night. She was the one asking all of the questions, how could she do a complete one eighty the very next day? _You're the one in charge idiot. She was curious. You let on to way too much for her._

He shakes his head, sighing harshly as his eyes scan over the moving cars below him. He doesn't even really know why he's so upset right now. This has happened before. He taken plenty of women out, trying to size them up, test their compatibility and it just didn't pan out. This is the same situation. But it isn't. He's actually worried that he's offended her; that she won't want to see him again. He _really_ wants to see her again. What the fuck? His phone chimes behind him and he turns his head, cutting his eyes toward the device. He turns slowly, anticipating nothing but bad news, but he picks the phone up anyway.

 **You were perfectly respectful. You're not what's scaring me…**

Michonne groans loudly, shutting her eyes as she drops her phone to desk with a thud. _Why did I type that? Fuck! Now he's gonna_ – her phone buzzes loudly against her wooden desk. She doesn't even want to look at his response. She stares at the wall, nearly drawing blood from her bottom lip she's biting it so hard. _God, why didn't you just say no!_ Her phone buzzes again to remind her of the new message. Not answering will just make it worse, she's knows that, especially with him. So, she grabs her phone again and it vibrates in her hand as he responds once more.

 **Interesting choice of words…**

 **What's scaring you?**

She stares at his messages. She wants to type something funny to at least try to get off this topic but at the same time she has a weird inkling to just tell him the truth. She can't really put her finger on it. She doesn't know why but she trusts him already. He sat there and completely opened up to her last night. No question was off limits; he answered her openly and honestly. Why shouldn't she give him to same respect?

 **Me.**

 **Why?**

 **You've got me thinking about some new things now. Things I've never… thought about.**

 _Bingo_. Rick can't help the big smile that spreads on his face. He twirls back around in his chair, phone in hand as he gazes out onto the city once more. He could jump out of his skin in this moment. Ever since he laid eyes on this woman, he hasn't been able to get her out of his head. That smile, her nervous little giggle, that incredibly toned but supple body… God, he'd love to explore that naked body. Rick usually isn't one to dabble with newbies, but for Michonne Moreau, he's willing to make an exception.

 **We should talk more about this**

 **Only if you want to, of course**

She responds quickly, a smile playing on her lips as she chuckles slightly.

 **So I guess you've made up your mind about me then?**

 **Yes.**

Her mouth drops at his direct answer. She swallows harshly as her eyes drift up to her computer screen. For some reason, seeing it in plain English makes it definite. She no longer has to wonder. He wants her. He wants to make her his. _Holy hell…_

 **Talk to Maggie. Then if you want, call me. Okay?**

 **We'll move as fast as you want to. If you want to move at all, that is**

 **Okay… it might take me a couple of days…**

 **Take all the time you need**

 **But I do look forward to hearing from you**

Michonne barely reads his last message before she throws her phone into her messenger bag. She throws the bag over her shoulder and steps back out onto the floor, tapping on the bar as she walks past Noah, "You okay? I'm gonna head out for a while."

He nods, glancing around the still quiet shop, "I'm good. I'll call you if I get into any trouble."

"Thanks Noah."

She can feel his eyes on her as she passes through the front door but she really doesn't have any time to dwell on it. She jumps into her car and merges into traffic, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as she nervously heads toward her friend's home. She turns up the radio and hums along, trying to clear her mind but nothing in this moment in helping. What is she getting herself into? She pulls up to Maggie's estate about twenty minutes later, pulling right up and parking behind her red Audi. She throws her bag over her shoulder and eyes the strange black SUV and Harley Davidson parked on the other side of the circular driveway, but shakes it off as she heads toward the front door.

Michonne doesn't even bother ringing the bell, she just slams her key into the lock and pushes her way through, dropping her bag to the floor and throwing her keys on the small end table, "Maggie?" She calls loudly, just about to ascend the circular stair case.

"Michonne? Is that you honey?" Clara, Maggie's oldest and dearest house keeper asks, rounding the corner.

"Oh, hey Clara." Michonne smiles a little, her hand resting on the banister and she takes a few steps, "Maggie's here right?"

"She is, but she's a little occupied at the moment. You might want to-"

Michonne jogs up the stairs, taking two at a time, "It's fine, thank you."

Clara's eyes widen as she tries to stop Michonne from heading upstairs, "No, I mean it. She is literally in the middle of- Michonne!"

Michonne doesn't head the poor old woman's words and just waves behind her as she reaches the top of the stairs. She heads down the long catwalk, reaching her hand toward the doorknob of Maggie's closed bedroom door. She throws it open, completely unprepared for what she lays her eyes on. Maggie stands at the foot of her bed, decked out in a black leather jumpsuit, complete with thigh high black patent leather stiletto boots. In front of her kneels the stringy haired Daryl, stripped down to nothing but a pair of handcuffs that bind his wrists together behind his back. The overly confident Negan stands in the corner of the room, his hands tied over his head by a rope connected to the ceiling. He's dressed in nothing but his thin boxers but seems to be enjoying himself as he grins down at Daryl.

Michonne screams loudly, covering her eyes with her hands as the three occupants of the room snap their attention toward her, "Oh god! Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She screams, slamming the door closed again as she turns on her heel and bolts toward the staircase.

"Chonne!" Maggie calls, laughing loudly as she walks out into the hallway, "Oh my god, what the fuck?"

"Why are you laughing?" Michonne screams back in disbelief, slightly irritated and highly embarrassed as she halts on the steps.

Maggie throws her head back, laughing even louder as she claps her hands, "This is some funny shit, that's why!"

"Maggie! Goddamn it!"

"What?" She throws her hands up, still smiling but now laughing more at Michonne than the situation, "Honey, you look like you've seen a ghost!"

Michonne exhales loudly and Maggie starts at it again, her laugh bouncing off the pristine white walls and marble floors, "Fuck you Maggie." Michonne huffs.

"Oh grow up, I'm just teasin'." She coos, "That's what you get for barging in my room in the middle of the day. Get your ass back up here."

Michonne shakes her head, "I am not going back in there."

"Why?"

Michonne's mouth drops open as her eyes widen, "You have two naked men in your room!"

Maggie rolls her eyes dramatically, before stomping back into her bedroom for a minute. Michonne hears a little shuffling before Maggie reappears, calling back toward her room, "Daryl, honey? Untie Negan for me and y'all take a break okay? Clara can make you some lunch."

The two women wait patiently as the men shuffle around the room before emerging onto the catwalk and heading toward the stairs. Michonne skips back up to the top of the stairs and drops her head as the two unabashed men pass by her, "Nice seeing you again Michonne." Daryl pipes up, winking at her as he struts past her, proud as ever.

"Yeah, you too." She huffs back but can't help the laugh that escapes her, "Negan."

"Always a pleasure doll." He shoots her with a finger gun then descends the stairs, "Oh Clara! It's your turn to get freaky with us baby! Come on!" He calls loudly as they make their way down the long stair case.

Maggie laughs lightly before turning her attention back toward her friend, "Okay, they're gone now." She coos sarcastically.

She holds out her hand toward her room and they move back into her bedroom, Maggie plopping down on her bed before she goes to remove her thigh high boots, "Why are you dressed like that?" Michonne finally asks.

"I was putting them through some training."

Michonne raises an eyebrow, "Training?"

"Yeah," Maggie says, shrugging her shoulders as she throws her shoes over the side of her bed, "Resistance training first. I gotta get them used to be tied up and restrained by different means. Can't have 'em tapping out on me. Sit." She taps her white bedspread and Michonne obliges, sitting next to her, "So, why are you barging in on me in the middle of the afternoon again?"

Michonne sighs, dropping her head into her hands and groaning loudly, "I can't do this." She laughs, "What was I thinking?"

Maggie smiles, slapping her friend on the shoulder, "I'm serious! What do you want? I am very busy if you haven't noticed!"

Michonne lifts her head to the ceiling, letting out another breath, "I've been thinking."

"About?"

"This?" Michonne answers in more of a question than a statement, "My mind has been racing since I had dinner with Rick."

Maggie laughs again, "Oh shut up. Tell me what you really want or I'm kicking you out." She glances toward Michonne and does a double take as she's met with a sincere look. Her mouth drops open as her eyes grow large, "Oh my god, you're serious. You're serious!"

Michonne throws her hands up, waving them slightly as she scrunches up her face, "This is crazy! I can't do this, I know that I cannot do this but…. He's so sexy. He just oozes… sex. What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing!" Maggie almost screams, clapping her hands in excitement, "It's about time!"

Michonne shakes her head, glancing around Maggie's large, beautifully decorated room, "It's just… it's crazy. I've never met anyone so intriguing, you know? He had me on the edge of my seat last night, the way he spoke about it. I wasn't even uncomfortable like I thought I'd be. I wanted to know more, I wanted him to tell me everything." She trails off, feeling Maggie's eyes on her as she tries to put her feelings into words, "Is that weird?"

"Not at all." Maggie says lightly, "I felt the same way when I met Morgan. He made me feel the exact same way."

"You really liked him." Michonne says, turning toward her green-eyed friend.

"I loved him." She says, smiling at memories of their time together, "Morgan was incredible. Taught me everything I know and not just about sex. He taught me about the world."

"Why don't you talk to him anymore?"

"Because," She drops her head, looking down at her thin fingers, "We didn't want the same things, I told you."

Maggie takes a breath and Michonne knows that she's full of shit. She loved Morgan, and Morgan loved her. He didn't want her to just be his sub after years and years of being together. He wanted her to be his wife, and that scared Maggie to death. So she ran, and never looked back. Michonne knows that deep down she regrets it, that she misses that man more than anything else in this world, but she's too prideful and too southern to ever admit it.

"This isn't about me," Maggie warns, "Quit changing the subject."

"Well," Michonne sighs a little, dropping the conversation, "With him eye fucking me all night, plus his interesting take on things, it's got me all… jumbled."

"I told you he was sexy."

"Sexy doesn't even do him justice," Michonne giggles a little, bumping her shoulder into Maggie's, "He is so confident and sure of himself but he's gentle, you know? He wasn't over barring or intimidating as I questioned him, he was incredibly patient, and open and… fuck, last night was incredible!" She laughs, finally giving in to her inner feelings, "It was incredible."

"So incredible that you wanna join in on the debauchery?" Maggie asks, wiggling her eyebrows as she pokes Michonne in the side.

The women laugh and Michonne groans again, "I was actually going to look it up online this morning. I was so fucking embarrassed."

"Well don't be embarrassed darling, there is nothing wrong with experimenting."

Maggie and Michonne snap their heads toward her door as Negan stands in the threshold, leaning against the frame as he takes a bite of his sandwich. Daryl nods behind him, agreeing with his dark haired friend, while guzzling down a glass of water.

"Have y'all been there this whole time?" Maggie asks incredulously, placing her hands on her hips.

"Not the whole time, but we got most of it." Daryl answers, "Michonne, look at us. Just a week ago, we were two assholes hearing about some hot Domme in Atlanta, now we're practicing submissives." He shrugs, looking over at Negan, who nods, "It happens."

"It doesn't _just_ happen," Michonne whines, "Not to me anyway."

"It does just happen." Negan says, walking into the room, "You gotta lighten up girl, life is passing you by."

Michonne scoffs, tucking her legs underneath her as Negan and Daryl perch themselves on the large chest Maggie has at the foot of her bed, "You don't even know me. Why am I even talking to you?"

"I know enough," Negan starts, "May I show you my evidence judge?"

Maggie rolls her eyes, "Oh god, you can take the boy out of the courtroom."

"One, I know you had a good time at Maggie's party." He continues, ignoring Maggie's dig, "Two, I know you had the time of your life last night or you wouldn't be here spilling your guts about it today. Three, I know you like this guy, what's his name?" He asks, turning his brown eyes to Maggie.

"Rick Grimes." Maggie answers.

"I met him," Daryl pipes up, "That's the construction guy right? He gave me his card, told me to call him when I got serious about opening that shop in Santa Cruz. That is one cool dude Michonne."

Negan points toward Daryl, widening his eyes at Michonne as Daryl drives his point home, "You are obviously interested in Rick since he's got you contemplating a new way of life. I see no reason to hesitate."

"You better watch yourself," Maggie smirks, "Chonne used to be a lawyer too, she'll take your ass to task."

"Criminal law, if I had to guess?" He asks, flicking his eyes toward Michonne once more.

"Yes, Mr. Corporate law." She smirks back, letting him know that she's just as intuitive as he.

"Prosecution?"

"Right again."

"Okay, so, you're intensely conservative, rules are rules and they are not meant to be broken." He deduces about her, rubbing his chin a little as he speaks, "You're serious by nature, level headed, and once your mind is made up, there's no use in arguing anymore, right?"

Michonne rolls her eyes but Maggie smacks her again. Michonne cuts her dark eyes toward her friend, scoffing at Maggie's smile. She hates to admit it, but he's right, which pisses her off. Is she really that boring and see through? A complete stranger can read her like a book? Bullshit. She should tell him he's a bunch of bullshit. She could rattle off a bunch of crap about him since he's about as deep as a puddle but, she just rolls her eyes again and huffs loudly, "And your point, nosey ass?"

He smiles widely, wiggling his eyebrows at her, "You gotta leave that bullshit in the courtroom doll! Look at this fucking life you're living! You own a successful ass business, you have a best friend who loves you to the fucking end of the earth, you have a guy who wants to fuck your brains out and you're smoking hot. There are people happier with less and even more poor fucks who would kill to be in this very situation. Fuck the background noise, fuck these lame ass social norms and rules that nobody abides by any fucking way. Have some fucking fun. Let that kinky son of a bitch tie you up, bend you over, and fuck you crazy."

"Word." Daryl adds with a mouthful of sandwich.

Maggie chuckles, shrugging at Michonne as they both sit a little dumbfounded, "I mean, I know you're a lawyer and all," Michonne starts, "But do you always talk this much?"

Negan shrugs, leaning back a little, "I have a way with words. It's a curse really."

Michonne laughs, raising her head toward the ceiling before running her hand over her forehead, "I am literally taking advice from a half-naked corporate lawyer right now." They all burst into laughter, "What is happening? I was normal last Friday!"

"And you're normal now, you're just getting a life, that's all." Maggie stands, grabbing her by the hand, "I have some books for you to start with. Boys, I'll be just a minute. Be good."

"Call us and tell us how it goes with Rick!" Daryl calls as the two women make their way out of the room.

About a half hour later, Michonne throws a heap of books into her passengers seat. She turns back toward Maggie and hugs her tightly, "Thanks for all of this. Research always helps clear my mind."

"No problem. Maybe if you're up for it after your research, we can all go to Velvet some time. To get you and frick and frack in there acquainted with the basics."

Michonne lifts her hands, shaking them a bit as her eyes widen once more, "One step at a time, Mags. Well, I'll leave you to it."

"Yeah, I gotta whip these boys into shape. I think Daryl can handle it but Negan is a little bitch. He's been whining and groaning all morning long." She rolls her eyes and scrunches up her face to mock him, "These cuffs hurt, you got the rope too tight, I have to pee; good lord."

Michonne laughs, "Tell him I hate corporate lawyers by the way. They're the laughing stock of the attorney world."

"Will do! Have fun with your research chicky." Maggie wiggles her eyebrows slightly before turning on her heel and sauntering back into her house, not at all ashamed to be in a black leather bodysuit in the middle of the day.

Michonne plops down in the driver's seat and brings her white Lexus RC to life. She eyes the stack of books to her right as the radio pops on and TLC fills her silent world. She grabs the book off the top and eyes the cover. _SM 101: An introduction_ is a thick book; four hundred pages of just words. She thumbs through the worn pages, noting Maggie's old highlighted passages and underlines, stars, and exclamation points throughout. She shuts it softly and rests her head on the seat behind her.

"Fuck."


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven.**

Rick drops to the floor from his pull up bar, exhaling deeply as sweat drips from his brow. He smooths his wet hair from out of his face and rolls his shoulders before craning his neck to the left and then the right to pop his neck. He picks up his phone and grabs the towel hanging from the door before flipping off the lights and heading back toward his bedroom. He wipes at his neck and hair as he scrolls through his emails, quickly responding to a few before he tosses the towel to his bed. He clicks on the green messages app, scrolling through all the unread messages from people he could honestly not give a shit about. There's one woman that he can't wait to hear from, but it's been radio silence for days.

He clicks on her name and rereads his last message to her, contemplating if maybe he should reach out. _You said you'd give her time, relax._ His thumbs hover over the keyboard, his eyes staring down at the screen as his mind races. What is happening to him? This isn't, this isn't normal behavior for Rick Grimes. He's not an anxious person, especially when it comes to women. They either want him or they don't, doesn't bother him either way. Until now. Now, he's bothered. He _wants_ her to want this. To want him. But _why_? That, is the million-dollar question. She's incredibly naive to this, to sex in general it seems. It'll take him months, if not a complete year to work her up to _half_ of what he's used to, to what he likes. That's time that Rick Grimes just does not have. But then he thinks of those big, brown eyes, that dark, glistening skin, that beautiful, plump, wet mouth… and he's weak. Rick Grimes gets weak.

What in the holy fuck?

 _Snap out of it, good god_ , he barks at himself, throwing the phone to the bed before turning and heading into his lavish bathroom. He starts the shower, somewhat angrily, before shrugging out of his sweatpants and boxers. He steps underneath the warm stream of water and closes his eyes as the water rushes over his head and body. He has entirely too much to worry about at work to waste time pining over some woman. He's won not one, not two, but three bids all over Atlanta, including her apartment building. He has meetings out the wazoo with a team of architects, he has to build three construction crews, and start schmoozing with the city council to get his permits approved. But his mind soon wanders, thinking about how her name would roll off his tongue so carnally in the heat of the moment. _Michonne._ She could beg him to fuck her in French.

 _Je te veux si mauvais, s'il vous plait…_

Rick takes a breath. He drops his head, plastering his eyes on the water as it whirls around the drain then disappears. His body tightens at the thoughts of her but he breaths deeply again, calming himself before things really get out of control. He's never had a reaction to a woman like this before; never in his life. He's got to have this woman. He _will_ have this woman. Michonne Moreau will be his, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He slams his hand on the shower nob and the steady flow of water is cut off instantly. He grabs a fresh towel and wraps it around his waist as he heads back toward his bedroom. He sweeps his phone off the mattress and opens his messages again, clicking on Maggie's name.

 **Free for lunch?**

 **Always for you babe ;)**

 **What's up?**

 **We need to talk about Ms. Moreau**

* * *

"You're sure everything is okay? I can come in Beth." Michonne asks into the phone, running the M on her necklace back and forth along the chain.

"Michonne, will you stop? I got it. Noah will be in a one, we're fine. Enjoy your day, okay?"

Michonne sighs, pacing back and forth in her living room. She stares down at the stack of books before her and her open laptop sitting on the couch. She's devoured the books that Maggie gave her a few days ago, all six of them. She'd Wikipedia and googled everything she could possibly think of but she wants to know more, she needs to. She's exhausted mentally and physically but she didn't pull all-nighters in college for nothing. She is no wuss when it comes to doing thorough research.

"Just call me if you need anything, okay? I'll be over there in a flash."

She can practically hear Beth rolling her eyes, "Just get some sleep and feel better, okay? We're good. Bye."

Before Michonne can even mutter a goodbye, the phone goes dead and the dial tone rings in her ears. She tosses her phone on the couch and plops down once more, rolling over to her stomach and hoisting her feet in the air as she pulls her laptop near her. She glances toward the open book before her, _The Ultimate Guide to Kink,_ then turns back to her laptop and googles flogging.

"To beat someone with a whip or stick as punishment or torture… what in the," Her voice fades as she clicks on the images tab.

Her eyes widen in fear as hundreds of images of men and women with bloody backs and behinds pop up on her screen. She lets out an audible gasp as she scans over the information, shaking her head slightly as she swallows harshly. She grabs her phone and taps Maggie's name, putting it on speaker as she plasters her eyes back on her laptop, unable to look away.

"Hell, I am popular today." Maggie greets, shuffling around in the background.

"I am not getting flogged. Are you fucking kidding me?" Michonne asks incredulously.

"Why not? It's actually kinda nice."

Michonne's eyes widen as she stares down at her phone, "These people are bloody!"

"He's not going to hit you that hard! Get off google images."

"Dude, these things are made out of genuine leather… they've got some dated all the way back to 1670, that's crazy!"

Maggie giggles into the phone as she sits at her vanity, applying her foundation, "I see you're enjoying your research."

Michonne shrugs, her eyes never leaving her computer screen as she googles another term, "Most of it anyway. I never knew all of this shit existed, this is just insane."

"What book are you on?"

"Oh, I finished them all."

Maggie scoffs a little, her eyes wide as she looks down at her iPhone, "You finished all of them?"

"Yeah." Michonne responds absentmindedly, her eyes wide as well as she cocks her head to the side at the pictures of girls tied up in a frogtie position.

"It's only been three days Michonne!"

She shrugs again, "I'm a fast reader. I'm about to read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy next."

"Don't read those," Maggie groans, "You won't learn anything of value from them. That is not true BDSM."

"Eh, I'm reading them anyway. What are you doing?"

Maggie leans closer to the mirror, puckering her lips as she applies her lipstick, "Getting ready for lunch with Rick."

Michonne snaps her head toward her phone, grabbing it in her hand before she stands from her position on the couch, "Rick? You're going out with Rick today?"

"Yes." Maggie drags out, dabbing her lips with a tissue.

"Why?"

Maggie giggles a little, "Because he asked me if I was free and I'm starving."

Michonne begins to pace again, grabbing at her necklace, "Well, what are you gonna talk about?"

"Hell, I don't know! Lord have mercy, child!"

Michonne rolls her eyes then plops back down on the couch again. She's being ridiculous, she knows that. But it'll drive her crazy if they talk about her and she doesn't know. She wants to know what he thinks about her. Maybe he's mad because she hasn't texted him yet. Shit, maybe he's changed his mind.

"He did say he wanted to talk about you though," Maggie cuts her eyes toward her phone before smirking at herself in the mirror as she starts on her mascara.

"He did?" Michonne smiles a little "Did he sound like happy or…"

"I dunno, it was through text."

Michonne grabs her bottom lip with her fingers and begins pulling on it, letting it snap back to her face before she grabs it again, "What if he's mad? I haven't spoken to him in a few days."

"He's not mad."

"How do you know?"

"I just know. Rick doesn't get emotional." She turns her head from the left to the right, checking out her make up job before turning her attention back to her phone, "Just let me have lunch with the man, okay? I'll call you later with the intel."

"You swear?"

"I promise," Maggie laughs, "Scouts honor. Now, leave me be so I can get ready. Tootles babe!"

This marks the second time today that Michonne has been hung up on. She tosses her phone back to the couch, then taps her fingers on her hips as her mind begins to race all over again. Her stomach fills with butterflies as she tries to imagine what on earth Rick wants to talk to Maggie about her for. Hopefully, it's all good things. Or maybe he wants Maggie to let her down easily. _She's not really my type, just tell her we can still be friends…_

She should eat something. Food always calms her nerves. She grabs her phone again and dials the familiar number to her favorite take out spot. There is nothing like a little Chinese to clear your mind.

* * *

"Rick, honey, you look great!" Maggie coos as she walks up on his table, embracing him tightly as he stands to greet her.

"Same to you Margret. You look beautiful."

She swats at his arm as he pulls out her chair, "Don't call me Margret, I hate that." She starts, sitting properly, crossing her legs as she takes a sip of the ice water in front of her.

Rick chuckles, retaking his seat, "I ordered for you, I hope that's alright."

"Always the gentleman, that's perfectly fine." She smiles widely, flicking some hair out of her eyes as she rests her elbows on the table. She links her fingers and sets her chin on them, a coy smile playing on her lips as her eyes glint in the sunlight, "So? About Ms. Moreau?"

Rick leans back in his chair, eyeing the younger woman carefully as his own smirk covers his face, "You don't want appetizers first?"

"We are talking about my very best friend here, Mr. Grimes. No time to doddle."

Rick nods his head slowly, rubbing his thumb against his index finger slightly as he glances around the outdoor restaurant, "How is she?"

"She's fine. Drowning herself in research at the moment."

Maggie's words pique Rick's interest, "Research?"

She nods slowly, leaning back a little as the server sets their lobster bisque in front of them and pours her a glass of red wine, "Into the lifestyle. She asked me for a few books a couple of days back."

He can't hide the smile that spreads on his face at the realization that she actually took his advice and spoke to Maggie. Maybe she really does want this. His nerves cool a little as he grabs a small piece of toast and covers it with the lobster, tomoato, and a small piece of mozzarella cheese. He passes it to Maggie and fixes himself one, "So, she's open to this?"

"She seems to be. I gave her six books and she's read them all already. It's been three days."

Rick raises an eyebrow, "Wow. She must be a sponge. What books did you give her?"

"All the beginner stuff," She says, picking up another piece of toast and smothering it with lobster, "SM 101: an introduction, The Bottoming Book, The Topping Book, Ultimate Guide to Kink, Screw the Roses, Send me the Thorns, and Dom's Guide to Submissive Training." She pops the small piece of toast in her mouth and wipes her hands on her napkin, "She's even going to read Fifty Shades of Grey for you." She giggles.

Rick rolls his eyes, "Tell her to stay away from those. I don't want to scare her off. The guy in those books is a creep."

Maggie eyes him, smirking all the while, "So you want an arrangement with her? A real one?"

He nods slowly, taking a sip of his Stella Artois, "I think so, if she wants it of course."

"Why? I've never known you to go for a novice." He turns his head from her slightly, not quite used to being questioned in such a way, "She's my best friend Rick."

"And what am I?"

"You're my friend too. But I love her more than anything in my life, I will not see her hurt."

"You don't trust me with her?"

She smiles again, "I don't know yet." She half whispers.

He sighs a little, knowing that he has to win Maggie over before he'd even have a chance to woo Michonne. He's a bit surprised though, he didn't think Maggie would be this difficult with him, "She is intoxicating," He starts, shaking his head a little, "Ever since I met her, she has been dancing around in my head. I've never," he stops talking, taking a deep breath as he glances around the patio once more, "This is different."

"How so?" She asks, slightly confused by his admission.

"I haven't been this excited about a prospect in years, since I was in my twenties. I don't pine after women like this, you know that. Neither do you."

"It's just because she's a newbie, you just want to pop her cherry. I can't have that, I won't." Maggie states coolly, sipping her wine.

Rick holds up his hand, "Hold on a minute. You know me. I would never invest this much time and effort into someone that I didn't see a very long future with. Yes, her naiveite arouses me to no end, but it's more than that. She seems so sheltered, so distant. I want to open her up, I want to show her things, push her to places to that she doesn't even know exist. I want to mold her." He quiets again as the waiter returns, dropping off their main courses this time. He waits until she's gone before he leans up once more, dropping his head a little, "I just want her to be mine."

Maggie grabs a french fry, biting it and chewing slowly as she continues to stare back at her dear old friend Rick. He speaks so gently, so fondly of Michonne, just like Morgan used to speak about her. Rick is right, this _is_ different. She's never seen or heard him act this way before. It's usually all business with him, but this is, what do you call it? Genuine. He has a genuine interest in Michonne, something deeper than just fucking her. She can hear it in his voice.

"You'll be patient?" She finally asks, cutting into her crab cake, flicking her eyes up at him, "Gentle?"

"Of course. We'll move as slowly as she wants and needs."

Maggie sighs, still weighing it over in her mind, "What do you want me to do? I'm not going to push her in any way, this has to be her decision."

"I don't want you too." He shakes his head, "I want her to be on board with this one hundred and ten percent and I will give her all the time in the world to make that decision. I just, I wanted to talk to someone about it, that's all. Someone that knows."

"You seem anxious. Rick Grimes is not an anxious man." She laughs a little, holding her fork to her lips.

He chuckles in return, chewing his steak slowly, "She hasn't texted me in three days. Can you believe it? I am actually counting the days."

"Wow," Maggie sings, leaning back in her chair, grabbing her wine glass to take another sip, "This _is_ different. Michonne would be so thrilled to hear that she isn't the only one losing sleep over this."

Rick smiles slightly, a little excited to hear that Michonne is as anxious as he. He takes a bite of his steamed carrots, placing his eyes on the beautiful Maggie Greene once more. She chews slowly, her green eyes cast on something in the distance as she rests her chin on the back of her hand once more. Her wheels are turning again. Rick takes a deep breath, before grabbing his beer once more, "What's the matter?"

She slides her eyes toward him, "What?"

"You know," He leans back in his seat once more, "I'm a little upset that you don't trust me. I thought you were hinting at this at your party."

"I was," She shrugs, "But I can't honestly tell you that I thought this would come of it. I mean, I never actually thought I'd be sitting here talking to you about this, about her. I didn't," She trails off a little, "I guess I didn't think this all the way through."

"So, giving her reading material was just a part of the illusion? I don't get it," He scoffs angrily, tossing his napkin on the table, nearly losing his appetite, "You've been frothing at the mouth since she and I met and now I show some interest and you don't want it to happen anymore?"

"Calm down," She warns, cutting her eyes toward him, "I am not one of your subs, do not raise your voice at me." She shifts in her chair, clearing her throat as she glances around the restaurant, "I knew she'd get curious, that's her nature. She devours new information like a greedy child but you're the one that is surprising me right now. You like what you like, you like order, you like discipline, you like someone who knows what they're doing. She literally fits not one of your preferences." She stares back at him, her eyes dark as anger flashes through her, "And this little fit you're throwing right now is not convincing me that you won't hurt her if she makes a mistake."

He takes a breath, cocking his head to side as he closes his eyes, "I'm not going to hurt her. You ask any woman I've been with, I don't do corporal punishment." Maggie sighs, rolling her eyes slightly, "Maggie. You know me. I've trained my fair share of subs."

It's her turn to take a breath. She grabs her wine glass delicately, raising it to her red painted lips and sips on it gently, her southern grace oozing out of her with every move, "I know you won't hurt her, _intentionally_." She meets his gaze firmly again, taking another long sip of her red wine. Rick cocks his head to the side, squinting slightly as he tries to work out what she means, "She doesn't know how to separate love and sex, not like we do. She's never had to." Rick lowers his eyes, nodding slowly as Maggie continues, "You cannot sit there and tell me that you haven't thought about that."

"I have." He answers quietly, "That's always the issue with the new ones."

"So, what are you going to do then?" Maggie leans up toward him, "What are you going to do when she's crying and telling you that she's fallen in love with you? Cast her aside? Completely cut all ties, like you did with Jessie?"

"That was different Maggie."

"You're right, it was different, that's why it is exactly the same." She lowers her voice and her head slightly, taking on the persona of a protective animal, "Jessie's been in the game for years, she knew the rules, and she fell in love with you anyway. I will not let you do that to Michonne, Rick. Not after what she's been through these past couple years."

"We can teach her," Rick says after a moment, literally feeling Michonne slip through his fingers, "Between you and I, we can show her the way. Maggie, I won't hurt her, I swear to you. If at any time, I feel like she's getting too close, growing too attached, I'll back off." He bounces his eyes between hers, " _Gently_ ," He emphasizes, "Until she understands. You don't want her learning from anyone else, I'll take care of her." Maggie sighs again, rubbing her glass against her lips as she eyes him, "I think you're selling her a little short here," Rick continues, "Maybe she doesn't want love either. Maybe that's why she's taken an interest. I don't know what she's been through but if it involves a man, maybe I'll be just an escape for her as well."

She hums a little before finishing off her glass of wine and motioning for another, "I'll hurt you Grimes. I swear I will."

"And I wholeheartedly believe you."

"Good." She states simply, taking another bite of her crab cake.


	8. Chapter 8

**Happy Richonniversary, guys! Lucky me had a four day weekend to work on this and I spent all day trying to get this out for you! I got a few notes last chapter that this is starting to drag so hopefully, this will start to make up for it. The scene is being set, although slowly, and for that, I apologize. But I promise some action very, very soon, please stick with me! Thank you all for your continued love and support! - Britt**

* * *

 **Eight.**

Rick taps his fingers against the long conference table as he tries and fails to pay attention. He's been in meetings all day, which he can usually handle, but today he is just not willing to cooperate. He spins around in his chair, facing the cityscape as one of his project managers drags on and on about shit Rick couldn't honestly care less about.

"Mr. Grimes?"

"Yes?" He sighs, not turning around, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Um, we're a few architects short for the Ecco restaurant remodel." The young man nervously states, playing with his papers a little.

"The interns start Monday Gareth. There's a kid, Noah Williams, I want him to lead this with you."

Gareth shifts uncomfortably, glancing around the room as all eyes bounce back to him, "Lead with me? I thought you said he was an intern."

"He is, but he's sharp and very talented. He'll pick up quick and he needs the experience. Shouldn't be a problem, right Gareth?" He asks, turning back toward the wide eyed, dark haired man.

Gareth annoys him, always did. He's a smug prick who thinks his shit don't stink because his daddy is rich. He's a terrible project manager and an even worse architect, but because of his father's money, he was passed through college like a football star. Rick begrudgingly agreed to hire him, only because his father was looking to rebuild his multimillion dollar business park, but Gareth is on thin ice. Little does Gareth know, if Noah succeeds under the pressure like Rick predicts he will, Gareth will be out on his ass within a few months and Noah will take his place.

Gareth runs his hands through his hair, annoyed himself but he forces a quick smile, "No problem sir."

"Good," Rick huffs, "What else?"

He spins back around in his chair and drowns out Gareth's voice once more. Rick is agitated and there is only one thing that can cure this horrendous mood. He can't believe he's gone this long without, honestly. He had a little fun in Tokyo but not nearly enough. He's going on what, three months now? Three long, arduous months without a little hanky panky. While he was abroad, he didn't think about it much. He was trying to close a deal, money was on his mind. But now that he's back in his element, his city, he's like a horny teenager while the girl of his dreams taunts him.

Two days have passed since his lunch with Maggie and still not a word from the magnificent Michonne. Not one. He wants to see her, he _needs_ to see her, but can't think of a way to get into her exclusive circle without looking like a creep. He left the ball in her court and he's going to keep it there; if he can stand it. Gareth's voice has ceased in the background and has been replaced by the wonder kid herself, Tara Chambler. She's cute and witty, tough but sweet, and she is an excellent project manager. She's attentive to detail, extremely organized, and she's a visionary. Unlike fuckboy Gareth.

"So, everything seems to be on track with Solis Downwood. I have a meeting with the owner this afternoon about getting the contract signed and to get authorization to have the crew set up on the south side first. We also have to get approval on the interior design for the two and three bedroom units, so I'll be taking Rosita with me." Tara spouts proudly, taking note that Rick has turned back around to face them.

 _Bingo._ Rick smirks a little to himself before turning up the charm as he faces the young Tara, "You have a meeting this afternoon you said?"

"Two o'clock."

"I think I'll join you. I know you can handle it, but there's a few more details that I think I should cover. Is that alright?"

She smiles back widely, truly enjoying the one on one experience with him, "That's awesome." She turns a little toward Gareth, smirking as she flips him off discreetly.

"Perfect. Anything else guys?"

Before anyone really answers, Rick throws his pen to the table and pushes out of his chair with a sudden burst of energy. He glances at his Rolex as he leaves the boardroom; eleven thirty five. Just enough time for a haircut and a shower, "Sophia, do me a favor?" He calls as he passes his receptionist.

She grabs her legal pad and jumps to her feet, her heels clicking loudly against the marble as she walks behind him, "Yes sir?" She asks, pressing her pen to the paper.

"I'm leaving the office for the rest of the afternoon, so transfer all my calls to my voicemail please. Also, if Mr. Yogomata calls, put him straight through to my cell phone with a 911 page first. Also, please make sure that Glenn gets the interns computers set up and in their offices by the end of today. Tell him that I will be sending test emails to their accounts, so I'll know."

Sophia giggles a little, nodding her head as she jots down her notes, "Anything else Mr. Grimes?"

He grabs his phone and keys from his desk before leaning over his chair to scan through his emails one last time, "Tell Ms. Chambler and Ms. Espinosa that I'll meet them at Solis Downwood at one forty five, and can you call Antonio and see if he can get me in for a haircut? Around one o'clock?"

"Will do."

"You got anything for me?"

She smiles warmly, "Shall I cancel your lunch with the senator this afternoon?" She asks a little sarcastically, knowing that he completely forgot.

"God, what would I do without you? Yes, please. Tell him golf next week sometime."

"I'll clear your calendar for the rest of the day. If anything pops up that I can't handle, I'll call. Have a good afternoon Mr. Grimes."

"You too darlin'," He pats her softly on her shoulder as he walks past her again, "And, thank you."

Rick can't wipe the smile off of his face as he exits his building and steps into the parking garage. He throws on his Ray Ban sunglasses and tosses his phone and tablet into the passenger seat before settling into his Tesla, bringing the electric car to life. Today is looking up after all. He finally gets to see Michonne, he is certain that he'll get the fire Gareth, and Tara is the solution to both of his problems. Unbeknownst to Ms. Chambler, she's earned herself a decent bonus this year indeed.

* * *

 _His words are intoxicating, all my angst from the day forgotten. It's just him and me, doing what we do best. Without taking his eyes off mine, he sinks slowly into me. My body bows and I tilt my head back, closing my eyes, relishing the feel of him inside me. He pulls back and then moves again, so slow, so sweet. I groan._

" _You're mine, Anastasia," he murmurs against my throat._

" _Yes. Yours. When will you accept that?" I pant. He groans and starts to move, really move. And I surrender myself to his relentless rhythm, savoring each push and pull, his ragged breathing his need for me, reflecting mine…_

Michonne turns the page, her eyes wide as she reads through Fifty Shades Darker. She's splayed out on her couch on her stomach, her legs bent at the knees as her feet dangle in the air. Her hair is pulled up into a loose, messy bun, dreads falling around her face as she reads. She's dressed in a pair of black leggings and a loose grey t shirt. She hasn't been to work since she saw Maggie and honestly, it's been refreshing. She's actually been able to run some errands in between devouring everything she can about BDSM. Her phone calls to Beth and Noah have slowed down, much to their delight as well.

She flicks her eyes to the next page as she turns it again slowly, deeply enthralled in this mom porn. Yeah, Christian is a little creepy but holy hell is he sexy. If Rick turns out to be an ounce of this, she's in real trouble. Her phone buzzes beside her and she turns her attention to it. The word rent flashes across the screen as the silent alarm goes off. She rolls her eyes a little, earmarking her page before she shuts the book. She rolls off the couch and grabs her wallet from the counter before shoving her feet into her bright red flats. She takes off toward the office, closing her door behind her and jogging down the steps and into the sunlight.

She makes the short trip, tossing her eyes toward the black Tesla parked in one of the spots but doesn't think too much about it as she rounds the corner and enters the lavish main office. She smiles widely at the slightly older blonde woman at her desk and hands over her debit card, reciting her apartment number as the manager hurries off to make her payment. Michonne drops her eyes to her nails and picks at them a little, never noticing the wolf advancing on her from behind.

"Ms. Moreau, I wish we'd stop meeting like this."

Her blood runs cold as his voice sounds behind her. _What in the fuck is he doing here? Fuck, I look like hell!_ She slams her eyes shut, cursing under her breath before she turns on her heel to face him, "Rick, my god, hi." She stammers a little, sinking into herself.

"Hello yourself. I thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth." He teases, leaning in to hug her gently, "How are you?"

Michonne nods, pursing her lips a little, "I'm good, yeah. Just, um, paying my rent." She laughs nervously, "What um, what brings you here?"

He points over his shoulder, "Meeting. I got the account after all."

"Oh wow, congrats."

"Michonne, here's your card hun." The manager returns, holding out Michonne's blue Chase debit card and a copy of her receipt.

"Thanks." Michonne coos, tucking the card back in her wallet.

"Can I walk you home?" Rick asks, desperate to get her alone once more.

Michonne glances around a little, shrugging, "Sure, thanks."

They head toward the double doors and he holds one open for her, Michonne feeling his eyes as she passes. It doesn't so much bother her anymore. She kinda likes his eyes being on her, "I'm mad at you by the way." Michonne says after a moment, sliding her eyes toward her taller counterpart.

"Why?" He asks as a smirk breaks out on his face.

"You know why."

Rick throws up his hands, "I swear I don't."

"You stole Noah from me!" She pushes him a little in his arm, laughing as he winces, "He told me he starts with you on Monday."

"I couldn't very well let someone else grab him up, he is very talented. He has a very keen eye for architecture. He'll be one of a kind with the right tutelage. I'm just trying to give the kid a chance."

"Yeah, by stealing him from me." She laughs again and Rick nearly combusts from the sound. _God, this woman,_ "No, I'm really happy for him. He is so excited. Thank you again, he is a great kid, you won't be disappointed."

"Well, I'll make sure to give him enough time to still help you out. I know good help is hard to come by."

She cuts her eyes toward him again but smiles as she starts up the stairs. Rick waits just a second before he starts to advance behind her, his eyes full of that beautifully round behind. He cocks his head to the side slightly as he watches those hips and ass sway back and forth as she moves and he can't stop his dick from jumping. Where has she been all his life? His eyes travel up her slim waist and back to that long neck where some of her dreads hang and bounce against her shoulders. All he can think about is grabbing a fist full of that hair, twisting it up in his fingers as she begs him to fuck her harder. _Yes, daddy. Please._ Shit, it's been too damn long.

Michonne pushes through her threshold and holds the door for him as he enters her humble apartment. She swallows again as she shuts the door, walking in behind him as she rings her hands together, "Are you thirsty? I have water, juice, milk, um, beer?"

"I'm fine, thank you." He answers, "Great place you have here."

She scoffs as she saunters to the couch, tucking her foot underneath her as she plops down, "Please, it's probably a shoe box compared to your place."

Rick smirks back at her before eying the stack of books on the coffee table in front of him. He sits on the other side of the couch and grabs Fifty Shades Darker from where it sits and thumbs through the pages, "I thought Maggie was going to tell you to stay away from this?"

"She did. I decided to read them anyway."

"This is trash," Rick laughs, tossing it to the coffee table, "That guy is weird."

"And you don't think you're weird?" She shoots back, raising an eyebrow, "I mean, you are kinda stalking me."

It's now Ricks' turn to scoff, "Oh really? Stalking you? I had a meeting, ma 'me."

"Uh huh," She laughs, grabbing one of her dreads and twisting it around her finger, "Look, I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I've been doing research."

"That's alright," Rick answers coolly, "I want you to take your time. Doesn't mean you haven't had me on pins and needles though."

She drops her eyes, trying to hide a smile, "So, you want me to sub for you?" She asks quietly.

Rick nods slowly, "Yes."

She takes a breath. It's weird actually hearing him say it out loud, "Do I have to sign a contract?"

"No, it is nothing like that stupid book." He states firmly, laughing and rolling his eyes, " Do you want to sub for me?" He watches as she grabs that M on her necklace and drags it back and forth along the chain, "Michonne?"

She nods softly, "I think so." She answers quietly.

He could come in his pants. But he doesn't have her yet. Not until she's in his room, naked with her hands tied behind her back. Then, and only then, is she his, "Why?" He asks.

"Why?" She shrugs, shifting in her seat, "I want something different." She starts, lifting her eyes to his, "I want to feel again. You may think that book is stupid but it's made me realize a few things about what I'm missing." She trails off, laughing a little.

"What are you missing?" He prods further, keeping his gaze on her.

She glances around her living room, her eyes landing back on the stack of books on her coffee table. She clears her throat, before humming a little as a smile spreads across her face, "It's embarrassing."

"You have to get comfortable talking to me, that's the only way this is going to work." Rick coaxes, his voice low and soft, "What is it?"

She smiles nervously, shaking her head as she bites her bottom lip, "I don't think I've ever had an orgasm. A real, true, deep, toe curling orgasm. Not like Ana anyway, even if Christian is a two pump chump." She giggles nervously, grabbing at her necklace, "God, that is depressing to say out loud."

"No it's not," He urges gently, "It's quite normal actually, for woman not to reach orgasm. That's not your fault, you know that right?" She nods a little, those eyes dropping away from his once more, "Hey," He says quietly, tapping her knee softly, "It's okay. Talk to me."

She shrugs, "I just don't know if I'm gonna be good at it."

"Don't worry about that," Rick shakes his head, "I'll teach you, it's my job. We'll learn together what you like and what you don't like. This is all about you Michonne, and what you are comfortable with."

Michonne smiles a little, glancing off toward her coffee table, "You know, I've never had a guy frothing at the mouth over me like Christian does in those books. That would be nice."

"What do you mean that would be nice? Have you not noticed the foam around my mouth?"

"Shut up." She laughs, rolling her eyes.

"I mean it," He smiles, loving how she's literally budding before his eyes, all because of him, "I've wanted you since the moment we met." She clicks her teeth and rolls her eyes playfully, prompting him to move closer to her. He places both hands on her face, causing her to freeze a little at his touch. He cocks his head to the side again, smiling as he looks over her smooth, radiant skin. His thumbs rub circles on her cheeks, "You are intoxicating. I don't know how you don't know that." He whispers, pulling her face centimeters from his.

She swallows hard, her mouth falling open as her breath quickens in her chest. He brushes his lips over hers and her eyes flutter shut as she feels his warm breath on her face. He hums, tilting her chin up toward him. He brushes his lips against hers once more and she literally shivers, biting her bottom lip before releasing it from her teeth. Without warning, he crashes his plump lips to hers, both inhaling deeply as they finally connect for the first time. His kiss is deep and forceful as he holds her, but she has no trouble keeping up with him. She moans into his mouth as his tongue slips along her bottom lip, before invading her mouth to massage her own pink tongue. Her hands sink into his hair and she pulls a little, causing a groan to scratch against the back of his throat.

He pushes her back on the couch, laying her against the arm rest as he settles in between her parting legs. She gasps as she feels his erection against her middle and his greedy hands roaming up into her shirt. She feels as though her skin is on fire; her body is emanating nothing but pure heat as his weight pushes her deep into the couch. He cups her full breasts with both palms and squeezes gently, moaning into her again as his body grows tighter and tighter. In the back of his mind, he knows he shouldn't be doing this. This isn't how this is supposed to go. But fuck, does she taste good. She _feels_ even better underneath him.

 _You need to stop. You need to stay in control Rick._ Regrettably, his fingers sink back down her stomach and waist, away from those supple bosoms. He slows the kiss, pinching her bottom lip in between his teeth, causing her to giggle. He could eat that giggle like his mama's biscuits and gravy. He pulls them back up into sitting positions, still pecking at her lips with his. He grabs her lips on last time, massaging them with his, coaxing her mouth open so he can implore her again with his tongue. He pulls away slowly, a soft smack bouncing off the walls of her apartment. His blues open slowly and he smiles at the sight of her. Her lips are swollen, her eye lids still shut as her shallow breath escapes through her slightly open mouth. The smallest hint of a smile plays on her lips. He needs more. He needs _her_.

Her eyes finally open on their own a few seconds later, that faint smile growing by the second. She bites down on that plump lip of hers, glancing at him through her eye lashes as she rubs her lips with her thumb. Her phone begins to ring loudly, breaking the staring contest between them. Maggie's facetime request flashes across her screen and she accepts as she tries to maintain a straight face.

"What's up?" She asks as Maggie's bright smile shows up on her screen.

Before Maggie answers, she brings the phone closer to her face, squinting her eyes, "What are you doin'?"

"What do you mean?" Michonne asks, squinting right back at her.

"You're all flushed. Did you just throw up or something?"

Michonne rolls her eyes, "No Maggie, god! What do you want?"

Maggie scrunches up her face at Michonne's demeanor, clicking her tongue, "Well, excuse me. Anyway, you coming with us tomorrow? I'm making my reservation."

"Where are you going?"

"To Velvet, the BDSM club downtown. I've been trying to get a hold of Rick all damn day but I guess he's busy or something."

Michonne shifts her eyes toward him, trying not to laugh at the proud smirk on his stupid face. Yeah, he'd say he was pretty damn busy, "Um, I mean, I don't want to cramp your style if he doesn't show up Mags."

"Don't worry about all that, you need to come with. You need to to get a taste of things." Michonne snorts at her choice of words and covers her mouth with her hand quickly. Her eyes dart back up at Rick, who can't contain his laughter either. Maggie squints again, "What the fuck Michonne?"

"What?" She laughs in return.

"Why are you being weird?" Maggie asks, completely annoyed that she's obviously the butt of some joke.

Rick scoots a little closer to Michonne and she tilts the phone, bringing him into frame, "Sorry babe, my fault completely." Maggie's mouth drops open in pure shock. Rick checks his phone and indeed has several texts and two missed calls from her, "Just got your messages by the way."

"You two know you get sent straight to hell for lying. You know that right?" She squints into the camera, pointing her dainty finger at them, "My daddy told me so."

The pair laugh again, "I had a meeting with the owner of her building today. She just happened to be paying rent just as I was leaving." Rick winks.

"Uh huh, and you somehow ended up back in her apartment. Looks like you've scored more than just the job, Rick." Michonne shoots her the bird as she sticks out her tongue, "Well, are you coming tomorrow or not assholes?"

Michonne glances over at him again, shrugging as she places her chin into her palm, "Yes, we'll be there." Rick answers for both of them.

"Perfect. Michonne honey, I expect you tomorrow around eight to get ready." Maggie calls.

Michonne nods, "I'll be there."

"Well, I'll just let y'all get back to whatever you were doing," She coos, "And I expect details tomorrow Michonne. Tootles darlings."

The call disconnects and Michonne drops the phone back to the couch, turning toward him a little, still at a loss for words. What is this dude doing to her? He stands and she does the same, following him to the door with her hands behind her back. He opens it and steps out onto the landing as she leans against the door frame, "Well." He starts, dropping his head and smiling a little.

"Well." She mimics.

"It's been a pleasure, seeing you again, that is."

She laughs at him, shaking her head, "I'm sure it has." She answers sarcastically.

"I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

She nods again, smiling a toothless smile. He steps up to her again and grabs her neck with his large hand, pulling her into another deep kiss. She moans into it, resting her hands on his shoulders as she stands on her tip toes to match his height. He releases her some moments later, dropping his hand to his side, "My, my, my." He whispers, reaching behind her to slap her quickly on her behind.

She squeals loudly but erupts into more giggles, excitement growing in her belly from being manhandled by him, "Will there be more of that?" She asks airily, watching as he starts to descend the stairs.

"Oh yes, Ms. Moreau." He calls back to her over his shoulder, "There is plenty more where that came from." He jogs down a few more steps before he calls back toward her again, "And Ms. Moreau?"

"Yes?" She asks, leaning against her door frame, that same stupid, lazy smile on her precious face.

"There is no need to be jealous of little Ana." She squints her eyes slightly, unsure of where he's going, "I can control myself, unlike Christian. If she can get off with just two pumps, you're in real trouble."

Michonne gasps, her eyes wide as another slow smile spreads on her lips.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi all! I'm going to apologize in advance if this is littered with mistakes. I am exhausted, lol. I could barely keep my eyes open editing this just now, but I wanted to get it out for you guys. But, my long work week is over, 7x12 is tomorrow (yay!) and my happy butt is about to go to bed. Yes, on a Saturday night, I am fully planning on being asleep by 9pm. Anyway, I want to just thank you all again for reading and reviewing. I read every single one and take them all to heart! You guys are the best!**

* * *

 **Nine.**

Michonne can't even pretend to be paying attention to Maggie in this moment. She looks at herself in the mirror as she applies her matte lipstick to her plump lips, her mind racing back to yesterday. To Rick. To that kiss. His lips on hers. His tongue in her mouth, his hands roaming up into her shirt. God, it's been so long since she's felt the weight of a man on top of her. The sheer force of his body pushing her into the couch was… animating. It brought her back to life, if that's possible. Flashes of her hands in his hair pop into her mind. His fingers groping her breasts, his erection right up against her heat; just the thin layer of his pants and her leggings between them. She was gone. Happily, gleefully, blissfully gone.

She bites her bottom lip as she pushes the cap back onto Maggie's tube of lipstick with a soft click. She honestly can't believe that she's agreeing to do this, to be a submissive. The thought! Her mother would be so disappointed. Then again, her mother was always disappointed in almost everything she decided to do. But, the thought of being _his_ ; being owned by him in a sense was… _provocative_. Dangerous even. But she wanted it. She wanted it all. The fear was still there of course, delving into a world she knows nothing about, but just the thought of having his undivided attention was enough. It was more than enough.

She wants to be his girl.

She wants to be _his_.

She smiles a little back at herself as she takes a deep breath. The butterflies in her veins flutter as her excitement grows in the pit of her stomach and in between her legs. Her panties are already sticking to her skin, damp from her day long fantasies about him. She had finally shown back up to work after fighting off a "cold" but was absolutely no help to Beth or Noah. She had somehow made it through the day, and here she is, standing in her best friends bathroom, ignoring her as she dresses for her Dom.

"Are you listening to me?" Maggie gripes after a second, cutting her eyes toward Michonne as she checks herself out in the mirror.

"Not really, no." Michonne answers frankly, twisting a little to check out her butt in her tight, lace skirt and matching crop top.

Maggie leans against the sink as she eyes her friend, who is almost unrecognizable in this moment. She can tell that Michonne is still slightly uncomfortable showing so much skin, but her walls are crumbling fast. Faster than what Maggie was honestly expecting. That scares the shit out of her. Yes, Maggie loves to play match maker and yes, sometimes she gets a little ahead of herself, not always thinking about the outcome of her meddling. Usually, she doesn't let those little things bother her, they are all adults after all, but she never honest to god thought that Michonne would be considering this. Did she want her friend to lighten the fuck up? Christ yes, but this? Subbing for Rick Grimes?

Maggie cuts her eyes back toward the mirror, pondering if she should have just kept her big mouth shut after all. But Rick promised. He promised her that he'd take care of Michonne properly. That is something that Maggie will see to; or she'll scratch those pretty blue eyes right out of his skull, "You sure he only slipped you his tongue yesterday?" She finally asks, raising an eyebrow.

Michonne shakes her head, clicking her teeth as she rolls her eyes, "You're such a bitch." She laughs a little, "You sure this looks okay?"

Maggie lays eyes on her again, taking in Michonne's white ensemble. It's a simple lace crop top and long skirt combo but matched against Michonne deep skin tone and the set of pearls around her neck, you'd think it was right off of a runway. Her skirt hugs her wide hips and flows over her feet, dragging a little behind her as she takes a few steps away from the mirror. Her stomach is mostly exposed, as are her broad shoulders as her dreads drape over them, "You look beautiful, as usual." Michonne flashes a wide smile back at her and Maggie could honestly melt. It's been a while since she's seen one of those. A genuine one anyway.

"Ladies," Daryl raps on the door a few times, "I hate to interrupt but we're dying out here." Michonne giggles a little as she grabs her clutch and Maggie moves toward the door, opening it. Daryl staggers back a little, placing a hand over his heart, "Holy fucking hell."

"Oh hush," Maggie smiles, swatting at his chest.

"We are some lucky assholes tonight! Just wait 'til Rick gets a load of you Michonne, goddamn!"

Michonne laughs loudly, copying Maggie's swat at his chest. Daryl extends both arms, allowing the girls to link arms with him as he escorts them toward the stairs. Negan and Rick stand near the front door, making small talk as the threesome approaches. They both turn, glancing toward the stairs and a wide grin breaks Rick's face in two. Michonne bites her bottom lip again, trying to hide her own smile as Daryl helps her down the stairs, releasing her only once Rick has grabbed her small hand. He takes a moment to look her over, causing her to giggle a little as he spins her around in the middle of Maggie's foyer.

"Ms. Moreau, you are a sight tonight." He says coolly, pulling her into him and taking a deep breath to consume the sweet smell of her perfume.

She laughs again as she crashes into his hard body. Before she can regain her composure, his hands are in her hair and he's stealing her breath from her once again. Michonne hands go limp at her sides as he tilts her head back, not a care in the world as he devours her in front of three other people. He releases her lips a few moments later, pecking at her mouth a few more times before he separates from her completely. His runs his thumb over her bottom lip as he continues to hold her face, smiling softly as she joins them all back in the present.

"Nice seeing you again." He whispers, licking his lips as his eyes drop back down to her now swollen lips, wanting to tastes them again.

She can't do anything but smile in return, completely oblivious to everyone around her. Maggie clears her throat loudly, grabbing Negan's hand as she steps past them, "Are we ready or do you two need to be escorted to my bedroom?"

Rick cuts his eyes toward her as she moves past them and toward the door. No one else notes her sharp tone, but Rick and Michonne both pick up on it immediately. He slides his eyes toward Michonne and smiles a little, sliding his large hand around the back of her neck, "We're ready if you are darling." He adds smoothly.

The five head out into the warm Georgia night, Rick and Michonne bringing up the rear as he keeps his hand looped lightly around her neck, "What was that about?" She whispers a little, pointing her chin toward Maggie.

He shrugs, pretending to not know that Maggie isn't as keen on the idea as she once was, "Oh, you know Maggie. Testy is her middle name, I just happen to be her victim tonight it seems."

She giggles a little but drops the subject, knowing all too well how Maggie's mood can shift on a dime. While Maggie, Negan, and Daryl pile into Negan's SUV, Rick opens the passenger door to a white BMW 5 series. Michonne takes her seat and watches him move around the hood of the car, "No Tesla tonight?" She asks as he settles in beside her.

He shakes his head, bringing the sports car to life, "Oh no, we need a little speed tonight baby. You just buckle up over there."

"Oh my," Michonne laughs a little, buckling her seat belt as Rick pulls them down the drive way.

He stops at Negan's SUV, rolling down Michonne's window and leaning over a little, "We'll meet you guys there. We're gonna take the long way."

Maggie's sharp tone floats back toward them but Rick guns it out of her driveway, the tires screeching as he fishtails slightly onto the road. Michonne grabs his arm in shock, pressing her back into the seat as he floors it toward the entrance, his chuckle drifting toward her with the breeze. He brings the car to a stop at the entrance of Maggie esteemed neighborhood, flipping on the turn signal as he waits for a few cars to pass. He shoots Michonne a look but before she can protest, he slams his foot on the pedal, fishtailing again out onto the main road.

Michonne laughs loudly, shrieking all the while as the car straightens and he pulls them closer and closer toward the mini van, Toyota, and Honda, that he allowed to pass just a few moments earlier, "Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick!" She screams, "Oh god, slow down!"

He does the opposite, enjoying her giggles and shrieks a little more than he honestly should. He pushes the car faster, crossing the solid yellow line separating them from oncoming traffic. He whizzes past the three cars in front of them and swerves back into the lane, cutting his eyes toward her once more, "Are you trying to kill us?" She shrieks, covering her chest with her hand.

He shrugs, "I just want you to have some fun baby."

He guns it again and she screams once more, covering her face as she dissolves into laughter again, "Oh god, help me!"

They take the long way, just like he promised. He slowed down (just a little), and let her enjoy the warm summer night. He can barely keep his eyes on the road he's so captivated by her. He keeps cutting his eyes toward her, noting how the bright lights along the highway bounce off her radiant skin. Her eyes twinkle underneath the moonlight, along with the pearls around her elegant, long neck. God, where has the woman been all his life? That timid girl is nowhere in sight tonight as she lets him rest his free hand on her thigh. She places a hand on top of his, smiling to herself as she gazes along the highway, her fingers playing with her expensive necklace.

They finally pull up to what looks like an abandoned building. Rick pulls them into the parking garage, winding round and round as the reach the top. He finally pulls up to a level full of expensive, shiny automobiles. He drives slowly, pulling past Ferrari's, Lamborghinis, Audi's, and Mercedes like nothing. He pulls into what seems like a vacant spot until Michonne notes the R. Grimes painted on the wall. She turns her head toward the spot beside her and nods a little, smirking as she spots M. Greene painted as well, "Oh, I see how it is. You rich people fucking kill me."

Rick laughs again, throwing the car into park and pointing toward the singular wooden door just beyond the way, "At least we're right by the door."

He steps out and joins her at her side, offering his hand to her as steps out onto the shiny cement floor. She loops her hand through his arm as he pulls them toward the entrance to only God knows what, the sound of her heels bouncing loudly off of walls. They pass by an empty stall and a large smile cracks her face, "C. Grey! I thought you said he wasn't real." She laughs.

Rick rolls his eyes and she laughs a little louder, "He isn't. That is Christoph Grey, a German engineer that I happen to know very well."

She lifts her hands, smirking, "Of course you do."

They stop at the door, Rick digging through his pocket before he pulls out a white keycard. He holds it up toward the small white reader next to the door and a click sounds seconds later. Rick pushes it open and allows her to walk through into a large, empty waiting room. He grabs her by her neck again and leads her toward another door opposite them. He lifts the keycard once more, and again, the lock clicks open for them and she's ushered through the threshold to find a set of descending stairs.

She tosses her eyes back toward him, scoffing a little, "Is all of this really necessary? Y'all act like we're walking into the CIA building or something."

She bunches her skirt in her hands and begins to move down the stairs, Rick's protective hands at the small of her back and around her arm to steady her. Once they hit the bottom floor, a soft thud of music can be heard coming down the hallway. Rick again slides his fingers underneath her hair and around her neck, something that kind of turns her on, and leads her toward yet another door, but this one is guarded by a tall, black man.

"Mr. Grimes, long time no see." The man greets, all smiles as they approach.

"Tyreese, how are you buddy?" Rick asks, reaching out to shake the friendly man's hand.

"I can't complain, living the life. You're joining Ms. Greene this evening?"

"We are indeed. This is Michonne Moreau, it's her first time."

Tyreese checks his clipboard before handing it over to Rick to sign, "Welcome to Velvet, Ms. Moreau. Enjoy your evening guys."

Michonne smiles widely as he pushes the door open, the music hitting them full blast as they move into the lively club. The Weeknd's _Starboy_ plays through the speakers as they move through the dim lit floor, go-go dancers moving provocatively in their cages. The large bar spans the entire length of the wall, where four barely dressed women toss and sling alcohol bottles like nothing. Rick winds them through the crowd, shaking hands and nodding toward people as they make their way toward the back of the room, where Maggie, Negan, and Daryl sit at her usual table.

"Well finally, I thought you two had ditched us." She stands, taking Michonne's hand to help her into the seat next to her.

"I told you we were taking the long way." Rick pipes up, settling in next to Michonne.

"Are you alright?" Maggie turns toward Michonne, her green eyes searching her brown ones.

"Of course," Michonne laughs, shaking her head a little as she scrunches up her face in confusion, "Why do you ask?"

Maggie shrugs, grabbing the bottle of wine in the middle of the table to pour Michonne a glass, "Just checking on you, that's all."

"Well, I think I'm in good hands." Michonne laughs her off.

Maggie cuts her eyes toward Negan, before grabbing her glass a little roughly, "Well, you don't know that yet." She says lowly, taking a sip as her eyes roam around the room.

"What?" Michonne asks, leaning into her friend as the music gobbled up her words.

"Nothing darling, nothing. Shall we eat?"

A few hours have passed and the quiet party of five has livened up exponentially. Even Maggie's foul mood has lifted as she laughs loudly at Negan's joke, clapping her hands before throwing them around his neck. The alcohol is flowing freely through all of them as scattered plates with half eaten appetizers and wine, vodka, and scotch bottles liter the table. Michonne has never tasted food so good, had wine so sweet, or had company so fun in all of her (twenty nine and holding, holding, holding) years. She leans into Rick as he strokes her thigh underneath the table. His fingers inch further and further up her leg, causing Michonne to squirm a little, clearing her throat and glancing around the room as if everyone knows what they're up to.

Rick smiles, moving his fingers back down to her knee and back into her comfort zone. Once Maggie's attention is fully on Daryl and Negan, he leans into his date, pressing his nose into her hair and taking a deep whiff of her, "God you smell good."

He nips at her earlobe and she jerks slightly, laughing at his antics, "Goodness."

He smiles again, wider this time as the wolf in him peels out of its sheep's clothing. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her into him, pressing his nose into her hair again, "I have a test for you." He whispers, picking up one of her dreads and playing with it as he eyes the side of her face.

She turns toward him, biting her bottom lip as she smiles, "What is it?"

Rick holds up a finger, "Lesson number one, it's either Sir or Daddy when we play, okay?" He laughs again as he watches her eyes widen to the size of saucers, her breath leaving her body, "Go on." He coaxes, still playing with her hair.

Michonne glances around, swallowing deeply as her head begins to swim in the most pleasant of ways, "What's my test, _Sir_?" She asks lowly, smirking as she cuts her eyes toward him.

He cocks his head to the side, sucking his teeth, "I really wanted to hear you call me Daddy."

"I know," She shrugs, "You have to earn that."

He smiles back at her, squinting his eyes as his interest in her rides sky high, "That's not how this works, Ms. Moreau. I speak, you obey."

"Mr. Grimes," She starts, riding high with liquid courage, "I think you'll learn that I have a very big, very loud, very disobedient mouth."

"And I will enjoy fucking the disobedience right out that smart mouth of yours, Ms. Moreau." She can't even speak. Her eyes just twinkle under the light and another smile spreads across her beautiful face, "Now," Rick starts again, "Your first test. I want you to take off your panties and give them to me."

She laughs a little, "Easy enough. Where's the bathroom."

He wags his finger in her face slowly, shaking his head, "No, no, no. No bathroom. Right here."

She gasps, "What?" She whispers harshly, leaning into him a little, "Right here?"

"Right here. Right now."

She scoffs loudly, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head at his request, "How am I supposed to-"

His fingers once again inch up her thigh, this time, pulling her lace skirt up with them. He glances back over at Maggie, who herself is in the middle of being pawed by Daryl as Negan nibbles at her neck and earlobe. He returns his attention to the brown skinned beauty next to him, her chest rising and falling quickly as she squeezes her legs together as he threatens to expose her most intimate of areas. He smiles slowly again, tilting his head as he uses his other hand to help the soft material up her legs. Michonne glances around nervously, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

"Just wiggle out of them, nobody's looking." Rick coos in her ear.

Michonne continues to look around the packed club. He's right, no one in here seems the wiser that he's trying to disrobe her in front of them, "I can't." She whispers, fear suddenly taking over her.

"Baby," He whispers, his hot breath washing against her skin, causing a shiver to run down her spine, "Please?"

She lets out an audible breath before swallowing harshly. She grabs his glass of scotch and takes a quick swig, shaking her head as the brown liquid burns her throat as it settles down into her belly. She wants to please this man. Something in her has to. She places her hands in her lap, her delicate fingers grazing his as she pushes his hands from her. Rick bites his lip as he watches her thin fingers inch up into her skirt. She tosses her dreads over her shoulder with a quick head shake as she clears her throat, centering her mind, spirit, and body. She wiggles her hips slowly, lifting up slightly before pulling slowly on her bright pink panties until they're in Rick's view.

He covers her hands with one of his to stop her, leaning in once more, "Slowly, Ms. Moreau."

She nods a little, a small smile playing on her lips as she slowly, _slowly_ , pushes her satin panties down her long legs until they slip over her stilettos. She bunches them in her hand and turns toward him, linking eyes with the hungry wolf once more, "Sir?" She holds them out discreetly, allowing him to take them from her before she rearranges her skirt over her legs. Rick's smile grows wider as he takes a sip of his scotch. He tucks her under garment into his pocket. Michonne watches him as he sips on his drink, her anticipation growing by the second, "Well?" She prods, "Did I pass?"

He chuckles a little, setting his now empty glass on the table. He stands, grabbing her hand and pulling her up with him, "We're gonna head to the back, check out the show." He announces to the table, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Maggie clears her throat, leaning up to rest her elbows on the table, clearly a little out of breath, "Yeah, um, I think, we're going to get a private room in the back as well. Michonne, darling, you'll be alright?"

Michonne nods quickly, feeling just as high as Maggie looks, "Yeah."

"Okay," Maggie shoots up, wiggling her hips as she straightens out her dress, "Boys, follow me."

The couples head toward the back of the club, passing through a thick, velvet drape separating the dining area from the rest of the club. Maggie, with Negan and Daryl in toe, makes a B line toward the VIP rooms while Rick leads Michonne to the center of the room. The atmosphere is completely different in the back of the club versus the front. The lights are so dim, she has to hold on to Rick as he maneuvers them through the crowd of people. The music is soft and sensual as Michonne glances around at the small occupied tables lining the walls. Men and woman are scattered about, seemingly oblivious to others around them. Michonne's eyes are wide as she stares at a woman, dressed in a black latex body suit, the mouth piece of her mask and both eye holes zipped shut, as she walks by with her Dom; him keeping a hold of her with a leash.

 _God, I hope Rick isn't in to that shit._ She shifts her eyes to a young man, kneeling on the floor, hands neatly folded on his lap, his eyes cast to the floor as he waits for instruction from his Domme. She's a beautiful older woman. Her long, salt and pepper hair is swept over her shoulder as he sips on her champagne, seemingly paying no attention to him at all. Rick stops after a while, pushing Michonne in front of him before pushing his hard chest into her back. He wraps an arm around her waist once more and points toward the center of the room, to a mostly naked woman, her hands bound above her head.

Michonne's mouth drops open as she watches a man, his eyes covered by a simple black masquerade mask, moves around the woman, spinning her slightly. She moves like a trained dancer as she spins around and around, letting her head loll back on her shoulders as the tips of her toes barely touch the floor. The crowd continues to watch as her circles slow and she's once again facing them, her delicate, young face covered with a very colorful masquerade mask of her own. The man begins to move again, running his hands along her arms and sides as she rests her head back on his shoulder as he stands behind her.

Michonne's breath quickens in her chest as she watches the two move around each other, dancing with one another in a routine all their own. They are both in their own little world, not even really aware that they've attracted a crowd. Michonne feels like a voyeur but she can't tear her eyes from them as the black suited man grabs a leather riding crop. He runs it over her smooth, white skin, down in between her breasts, along her tight stomach, right down in between her legs, causing the girl to moan out loud. The brunette throws her head back, biting her lip but giggling as he tickles her soft skin.

Without warning, a loud crack radiates through the dim light room, causing Michonne to jump suddenly. The young girl lurches forward, grunting loudly as her mouth drops open and she exhales roughly. He hits her with it on her behind again and she leans forward, pulling on her restraints as she moans. Michonne swallows harshly but bites the inside of her cheek. She tightens her hand around Rick's arm, suddenly acutely aware of his body crushed up against hers. The man moves the riding crop along her body again, down her legs, then up toward the apex of her thighs. The masked man rubs her gently, letting her lean back against him once more, her chest rising and falling faster and faster as he pushes her toward her release. He sucks on her neck, his free hand playing with her left nipple as she grows louder and louder.

Michonne grabs the pearls around her neck as she takes a deep breath, her body heat rising quickly. Her eyes are heavy and hooded, her head swimming from the alcohol, her legs quivering as she watches the scene play out in front of her. The girl is nearly shrieking from pleasure before them and Rick tightens his grip around her, rubbing slow circles on her hip as he drops his eyes to her. Before he can stop himself, he sweeps her hair over her shoulder, exposing that elegant neck. Like a vampire, he sinks his teeth into her flesh, softly, and she jumps again, squeezing the hand around her waist for dear life. She could combust right here, right now.

The masked man slaps the woman with the crop gently between the her thighs and she shatters in front of the crowd. Her orgasm washes over her in waves, her labored breath and gasps and moans filling the room as her hands turn red from pulling on her restraints to hard. He holds her to him, caressing her softly, rubbing her hips gently as he kisses the side of her face. The crowd claps as the young woman comes down from her high, but Michonne is riding a wave of her own. Rick stops his assault, grabbing her hand once more to pull her from the middle of the crowd. He pulls her back into a secluded area, pushing her up against the wall as soon as they are out of anyone's sight.

He sinks his hands into her dreads and pulls her face into his, crashing his lips to hers. She moans into his mouth, her hands slinking around his shoulders and up into his hair as he grabs her lips with his. He pecks at her lips before moving down her chin and to her neck, biting her again as she tightens her grip around him, "Fuck, you smell good baby." He whispers roughly against her skin, nipping at her collar bone. She giggles and it sends shocks through his tight body. He doesn't want to wait anymore. He can't. He won't.

"Come home with me." He whispers again, this time in her ear before he leans back, his blue eyes staring intently into her sparkling brown ones.

She nods quickly, more than ready for this to happen. Without another word, or moment for her to change her mind, he's pulling her through the club once more, throwing the velvet drape out of his way as they pass back by their table. Michonne grabs her clutch quickly, laughing a little as she struggles to keep up with him. She fumbles for her phone, pulling it out to type Maggie a quick message.

 **Leaving with Rick. If I don't make it out alive, know that I love you.**

* * *

 **T minus 24 hours til 7x12 airs... and maybe another update ;)  
**

 **It's _cumming_...**


	10. Chapter 10

**A promise is a promise! In honor of 7x12, I finally give you the SMUT! I'm sure after tonight's episode, I won't be able to form legible words, let alone write a full sentence, so I got this done as soon as I could. After the cliffhanger I left last chapter, I didn't want you to have to wait too long. Enjoy and happy Richonning! I hope to be buried next to some of you after tonight ;)**

* * *

 **Ten.**

"Leaving so soon?" Tyreese asks as Rick and Michonne push past him.

Rick shrugs a little, turning his head just slightly to answer, but never slows down, "Oh you know, duty calls."

Michonne wiggles her fingers at the man, flashing a smile as she jogs a little to keep up with the long-legged Rick. Tyreese chuckles, knowing all too well what "duty" is calling, "Have a good night folks, be safe."

The two hit the steps, Rick stopping for a fraction of a second to allow Michonne in front of him. He grabs her hips with both hands and pushes her gently as they ascend the staircase. He badges though the door and grabs her hand again as they cross the lobby and crash into the parking garage. Once they approach his car, he whirls her around, spinning her around his body, and pins her to the sparkling white BMW. She laughs loudly, leaning against it as she wipes at her forehead, "Are you hot? I am so hot." She asks, continuing to giggle.

Rick leans in again, kissing her deeply before dipping down to her neck again, sucking harshly. She lets her head fall back, biting on her bottom lip as moans escape her. Rick runs his tongue along her neck, up to just below her ear before he moans, biting down on her shoulder quickly, "You taste good too, you know that?" He mumbles more to himself than to her.

She laughs again, "No Sir, I didn't know that."

"Oooh baby," Rick smiles devilishly, cupping her face as he continues to lick at her skin, "You learn fast, I like that. Makes me happy."

Michonne beams. She likes making him happy. Rick has to almost pry himself off of her to open the door and help her in. He slams her door and moves to his side, throwing the car in reverse before the engine barely has had time to turn over. He screeches out of his parking spot and they're off again, burning through downtown Atlanta like lightening. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel but lets the other roam over her knees and thighs, squeezing her supple skin. Michonne leans over the armrest into him, her eyes all a blaze as she focuses on him, her fingertips playing with the ends of his hair.

He whips them into the parking garage of the 05 Buckhead high rise. He moves them through the concrete garage, pulling into his spot on the fourth floor. He steps out and opens her door for her, offering his hand as she stands once more. He wraps an arm around her back, resting his palm flat on her hip as they move toward the elevator. Michonne note his Tesla, nestled a few cars down, between a light blue Jaguar, a cherry red Corvette, a silver Range Rover, and a midnight blue Audi.

"I'm surprised you don't have your name painted on the spots here too," She laughs a little, "I wouldn't let just anybody park next to my eighty-thousand-dollar Tesla."

"Not just anybody is parked next to it," he starts, "They're all mine."

Her mouth drops open as he pulls her into the elevator, her eyes wide, "You're kidding, right?"

He shakes his head, smiling as the elevators doors slide shut. He hits the round thirty-two, the top floor, and within moments they are being pulled up into the heavens. He keeps his arm around her, pulling her body into his as he breathes rhythmically, deep and calm as his mind races. Michonne keeps her eyes on him, wondering how he can keep his cool while she is a ball of nerves. But there's no turning back now, not that she could. Hell, not that she would want to.

The elevator slows and comes to a soft stop. The doors slide open and Rick steps out into his lavish penthouse, pulling Michonne behind him. She glances around his spacious living room and large bay windows splashed across the wall ahead of her. But before she can really get a good look, she's pulled down a hallway, her heels clicking fast against the marble floor. He stops at a door, pushing it open and stepping slightly to the side, allowing her to step inside. He never drops her hand as he follows her in, softly shutting the door behind him before he turns his attention back toward her inquisitive form.

Michonne's eyes are wide again as her mouth drops open at the beautifully decorated room before her. The floors are hardwood, two steps leading down to the spacious room. A large California king bed sits dead center in the room, pushed back against the night blue painted walls. It's covered in black satin sheets with four pillows propped perfectly against the headboard. On either side of the bed, his assortment of toys hang from their respected hooks. Floggers, riding crops, rope of assorted colors and coarseness, all neatly lined up next to one another, not a one out of place.

She steps in a little further, taking the stairs slowly as she swallows, feeling Rick right behind her as she explores. She turns to the right, spotting a large, black painted, wooden X attached to the wall, four hand cuffs attached to each corner. She walks to it and reaches out, letting her fingers graze along the smooth, no doubt hand carved, piece of… furniture?

"We can work up to that." Rick says quietly, lowly, "That's a little much for beginners."

"How do you, um," She trails off, her words failing her.

He smiles a little, stepping right up behind her again, pushing his chest into her back, "This is Saint Andrew's Cross. Hands are cuffed here," He points to either point at the top of the X, "Ankles here. But if you are really athletic, it works just the opposite, if you catch my drift."

Michonne's eyes widen a little more as the thought of her hanging upside down while shackled to his wall enters her mind, "I mean, I used to be a swimmer back in high school." She shrugs, "I can be athletic."

He chuckles at her, "Like I said, we can work up to that. Keep looking around, you need to be comfortable here."

She steps away from the wall and heads toward the opposite end of the room, where a singular, tall, mahogany chest of drawers sits. She walks up to it and runs her hands along the expensive chest, smiling a little at his knack for interior design, "Italian made, the bed too." He pipes up.

"Of course it is." She glances back toward him, smirking.

"Open it."

She opens the first drawer to expose a bevy of handcuffs. Leather ones, metal ones, soft velvety ones, of all sizes and colors. She closes it and moves on to the next one, full of more rope, tape, zip ties, and Velcro straps. She slides open the third drawer and inhales quickly. Housed inside is a litany of vibrators, all sizes, all shapes, and colors, all lined up from smallest to largest. Rick tilts his head, looking over her shoulder a little to gaze her reaction, "They're all brand new," He starts, reaching over her to pull open the fourth drawer, "Along with all of these."

Michonne slams the drawer of dildo's shut, spinning on her heels to face him, "We can work up to those?"

He smiles genuinely back at her, rubbing her chin as he nods, "Of course."

"Okay," She exhales, smiling nervously as her eyes continue to wander around the room.

Just beside them is a doorway, leading to a dimly lit, but huge closet, "I keep my workout clothes in here. That side is for you though."

"For me?"

"I like to buy my subs lingerie, bras, panties, heels, for when we play. You can keep it all in here."

He takes her by the hand and leads her back out to the main room. He leads her toward the door and takes her in his hands again, pushing her body into his. He cups her face in his hands, letting his fingers dig into her hair before he leans in to kiss her slowly again. He pulls back and glances all over her face, smiling to himself, "You okay?" He whispers.

She nods, swallowing noticeably again, "Yes."

"In here, it's yes Sir." He whispers.

She notes the demeanor in his voice, soft but stern, "Yes Sir."

He smiles wider, his eyes still roaming over her delicate features as happiness floods his already light body. He feels as though he's high in her presence; he has all night. He already loves having her in his space, in his room. This is a new feeling for Rick. It's a feeling that he could honestly get used to, "Lesson number two, Ms. Moreau." He points back toward the bed, "I'll have your outfit laid out on the bed. Change, _quickly_ ," he accentuates quickly, quirking his eyebrow a little, "And then come back to the door."

He takes both of her hands in his and helps her kneel to the ground. She watches him closely as he situates her, leaning her back on her hunches and placing her hands neatly on her thighs, "When I come in, I expect you right here, just like this. Okay?"

She nods, 'Yes Sir."

"Head up," He tilts her chin up, "Eyes forward. Don't look at me until I engage you, understand?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good." He smiles again, "I'm going to go change, alright? Eyes forward."

"Yes Sir." She answers calmly, taking deep, steady breaths.

He stands, letting his fingers linger along her shoulder before he turns and vanishes back toward his closet. Michonne lets out a breath through her teeth, closing her eyes as she tries to center her mind and body. _You're here, you're doing it. This is what you've waited for._ She could honestly jump out of her skin. She can't even name all of emotions running through her veins right now. Exhilaration, fear, hopefulness. She feels sexy, needed, wanted, but insecure, unsure, nervous. But it's all so different from loathing. That's the only emotion she's allowed herself to feel for years. This feeling? This moment? This is incredibly… _freeing_. It's just her, all of her, out in the open for the first time maybe ever. She's not Andre's mom, she's not Mike's ex-wife, she's just Michonne.

Within a few minutes, the wolf is back. He dressed in nothing but a pair of dark grey sweatpants; even his feet are bare. Michonne clears her throat, struggling to keep her eyes focused on the wall in front of her. Rick walks over to her, holding out his hand, "Good girl."

She places her much smaller hand in his and he helps lift her back to her feet. He pulls her slowly back toward the center of the room. He leans down, settling her hand on his shoulder before he removes her left and then her right shoe. He tosses them toward the corner of the room, then pulls out her panties from his pocket. He helps her step into them, then slides them slowly up her long legs, eying her through his dark lashes as he lets his fingers graze along her smooth, soft skin. Once they're up around her, he stands tall, taking a deep breath as he casts his eyes on her again. Michonne's chest rises and falls quickly, her hot breath splashing against his bare chest. She keeps her eyes on his as he looks her over, that devilish smirk playing on his pink lips.

"Sir?" She whispers.

"Yes?"

"May I ask a question?"

"Yes."

"Why um, why did you put my panties back _on_?" She asks, "I thought the point was to get me naked, not to put clothes back on."

"Because I respect you and your body." He answers simply, "We're moving slow, I don't want to rush you. I want you to feel comfortable and to feel safe. I view you sharing your body with me as a privilege, not a right." He exhales slowly, deeply, almost as if he hasn't been himself around her until this very moment, "I want your permission. Okay?" She nods, taking a breath of her own. He wags her finger in her face again, "Okay? Ms. Moreau?"

"Yes Sir."

He encloses his hands around her face once more with his hands, rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks and neck as he gazes at her. They are millimeters apart, in fact, every time he inhales, his bare chest pushes into hers. His eye lids are low over his blue orbs as he pulls her face into his again and kisses her softly. He pulls away, tilts his head, and then kisses her again, running his tongue along her bottom lip. He moans softly, more to himself than anything, before he smiles softly at her again. He steps to her left slowly as he lets his hands fall down to her sides, skimming along her still clothed body like snakes along a pond. Slow, deliberate, skilled.

He steps behind her and nuzzles his face into her hair as his hands run back up her sides, grabbing both wrists. Michonne shivers slightly as his warm breath crashes against her neck. She closes her eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he slowly lifts her arms above her head, "Leave them there." He whispers as he drops kisses along the side of her face and down her shoulder.

"Yes Sir." She barely gets out, her heart pounding against her chest as the heat begins to rise in her skin.

He trickles his fingers back down her outstretched arms, causing her to jump slightly out of arousal and anticipation. He pulls his hands to the zipper of her skirt before he leans around her, "May I?"

She nods wildly, "Yes Sir, please." She whispers, her breaths now audible as she inhales and exhales.

He unzips the garment slowly before pushing his hands into the sides to help the lace fall to her pretty, manicured feet. He leaves his hands connected to her skin, dragging them up to her lace crop top. Before he can even ask, she blurts out quickly, "Yes Sir. Please Sir."

Rick chuckles, "Thank you."

With a tug, her breasts spring free from the soft material as he pulls it over her head. He tosses the top behind him, letting it land where it may. He flattens his palms on her flat stomach and sways them back and forth a little, taking another deep breath of her flowery scent, "I like this perfume Michonne, I really do." He remarks, throwing her hair over her shoulder so he can drag his nose from shoulder to shoulder.

"Thank you, Sir. I bought it just for tonight."

He leans away from her slightly, a wide grin splashing across his face, "You did? Just for me? Thank you."

Michonne closes her eyes as she smiles widely herself. Those fingers of his begin to travel again, this time finding their way to her perky breasts. He palms them, cupping them, squeezing them softly as she lets her head loll back onto his shoulder. She bites her lip and groans as he plays with her, enjoying how receptive she is of him. This is scary. This is new. But she's doing so, so well. Rick bites down on her shoulder and she grunts loudly out of pure pleasure, her eyes springing open as she stares up at the ceiling.

After a few more moments, he steps out from behind her, dragging his eyes from her feet up to her face. He reaches out and places his index finger just below her chin, feeling her swallow harshly. He pulls his finger down her chest, in between her breasts, down her toned tummy, making a circle around her belly button before he stops, just at the rim of her satin panties. He kneels, grabbing her small hips in his hands before he tilts his head up toward her, his eyes asking for the permission his fingers so desperately need.

She licks her lips before nodding, "Please Sir." She hums lowly.

He doesn't waste a moment. He kisses her left hip, then her right, flicking his eyes back up to her as she jerks from the coolness of his lips against her hot skin. He leans up just a little, grabbing the silky material covering her with his teeth before he beings to tug at them, letting his lips drag along her skin as he moves down her long legs. He helps her step out of her panties before pushing them away. He places his hands at her ankles, wanting to feel every inch of her. He explores her body like a man that's never seen a woman before. He pushes his hands along her smooth skin, gripping and squeezing her as he gets accustomed to her.

He reaches around her, palming her supple behind in both of his strong hands. He squeezes her flesh before taking her hips once more. Her arousal is splashed against the insides of her thighs, the light catching it and making it shine. There is nothing more that Rick loves than a _responsive_ woman. He licks at her salty juices and she jumps again, causing him to chuckle against her. The vibration of his laugh shoots right through her, sending a shock right to the apex of her thighs, wetting her folds more. Rick's pink tongue darts out of his deadly mouth, lapping at her wetness as he keeps a hold of her hips to stop her from moving.

Michonne writhes against his face, moaning loudly as she drops her hands to his head. She grips his long tresses as she pants, throwing her head back as electricity bounces through her body. Rick opens his eyes and stares up at her, excitement growing in his own body as her hips sway slightly back and forth, trying to create more friction. He flicks his tongue against her hot center a few more times before he pulls away. He stands, grabbing her wrist and leading her slowly toward the bed. He rubs his thumb on the inside of her palm, calming her nerves as they move to the bed.

"Lay in the center please, on your back." He instructs quietly, helping her up onto the four poster bed.

She does as she told, laying on her back, both arms at her sides as her chest rises and falls. Rick moves across the room with ease, like a lion stalking his land. He pulls out four bundles of rope from his chest of drawers before he moves back to the end of the bed. He crawls over her body slowly, his legs and hands on either side of her as he moves up to her. He sits up on his hunches, resting on her stomach gently as he holds up the golden rope.

"This is jute, it's a vegetable fiber that's woven together. It's Japanese. Feel it." Michonne reaches out, running her fingers along the soft but sturdy threads, "I'm going to tie your wrists to the headboard and if you're okay, I'll tie your ankles to the posters. Alright?"

The butterflies begin to rise in her belly again but she nods, "Yes Sir."

"Let me know if you get uncomfortable, I mean it."

"I will Sir."

He picks up her right wrist and then her left before he begins wrapping the rope around them. He secures her wrists together before he lays her arms over her head. She stretches out her fingers as he leans over her, tying her wrists to the headboard behind her. Michonne watches him carefully as he subdues her, finally pully on her restraints once he's done to check his handiwork, "Okay? Not too tight?"

She nods, "No Sir, I'm fine."

He smiles in return and it reaches his eyes. He's so happy, "Pull on them."

She pulls, as hard as she can but her arms don't budge. Rick leans down, extending his tongue to lick her neck, right up to just below her ear before he nibbles on her ear lobe. Michonne gasps as she pulls on her restraints, organically this time. Rick moves down her body, stopping at her breasts to suckle on each nipple, while palming the other. He jiggles them slightly, smirking before he kisses each one, "These are beautiful."

She giggles as she squirms underneath him, "Thank you Sir."

"You," He starts, his tongue working its way to her navel, licking around her belly button, causing her to gasp again, "Are very welcome. This entire body is beautiful." She laughs again and he rests his chin on her stomach, gazing up at her, "That laugh is beautiful."

She eyes him down the length of her body, biting her bottom lip before she smirks, "You like it, Sir?"

He slinks off the bed, grabbing her left ankle to continue tying her down, "Yes I do." _More than I should, actually,_ "Still feeling okay?"

Michonne shifts a little, adjusting to her legs being spread open. She wiggles her toes before she pulls on her wrists again, beginning to enjoy the feeling of them being bound. He stands up straight, dragging his eyes up her body as he eyes his handiwork. He takes a deep breath before crawling up the bed again, advancing on her like a hungry lion. He attacks her neck, his lips and tongue griping her skin as her eyes shift close once more. He slithers a hand down her writing body until it reaches her prized possession. He slips his fingers in between her lips and begins to rub her slowly, coating his fingers with her slick juices.

Michonne's breath hitches in her throat as waves of excitement and pleasure begin to bounce through her. _God, it's been so long._ Rick dips a finger, and then a second inside of her, flicking his eyes up toward her as she gasps sharply. He pushes his heavy body down onto hers as he moves his fingers in and out, in and out, in and out of her, irritatingly slow. He pulls away from her slightly, wanting to watch her face contort, watch her bite that plump bottom lip, as she hisses then puckers her lips as she releases her short, fast breaths. Rick hums out of happiness, before kissing her armpit and moving down to his favorite part of her once more.

He sucks on her taut, thick nipple, biting down softly before he pulls on it, letting it pop out his mouth, "Oh God," Michonne moans loudly as an electric current rips through her. She rolls her hips into Rick's fingers as she tilts her head toward the ceiling, the pressure beginning to build. Rick takes note as her body begins to tense tighter and tighter around his fingers; involuntary shivers beginning to erupt through her. He quickens the pace, pushing his fingers deeper into her as he slinks down the bed to her hips. He drops kisses along her waist, curling his fingers inside of her. Her body jerks beneath him as she buries her face into her arm, her feminine cries bouncing off the walls. Rick smirks, his steel eyes stuck on her as he presses his thumb on her clit, adding to the pressure.

She raises her hips from the mattress slightly before she rolls her hips harder, wanting nothing more than to shatter into a million pieces around him. _Because_ of him. She shudders again, her body tenses hard and her words to him from the previous day float to him. _I don't think I've ever had an orgasm. A real, true, deep, toe curling orgasm._ That's all about to be a thing of the past. He reaches up and grabs her breast, kneading her nipple in between his fingers as he closes his lips down around her bud. He flicks his eyes back up toward her as his fingers quicken once more and he sucks on her like a popsicle. Michonne's breath is ragged at this point, tears almost stream down the sides of her face as she can't contain the sounds that escape her. She pulls on her restraints, the firm but soft rope bending and expanding but not giving in to her force.

"Don't be stubborn, Ms. Moreau," Rick growls, knowing she's close, wanting to coax it from her, "Give it to me baby." He murmurs, "Come for me baby."

His words prove to be her undoing. One more thrust of his fingers and fifteen years of being slighted sexually comes crumbling down in pieces. Her body erupts around him in orgasm as she gasps loudly, her hips raising from the mattress again. Rick works her through it, his breath quickening as he hums out of pure happiness as he relishes in her orgasm. He licks his lips, his already hard dick jumping in anticipation as she squirms beneath him. Her eyes close as her body jerks from the aftershocks, her mouth dropping open as she sucks her teeth and licks her lips. A smile covers her face as she lets her head loll to the side.

"Fuck." She mewls, breathing deeply as she chuckles a little.

Rick withdraws from her, leaving her empty but quickly moves to undo her ankles, "Oh no, missy. I'm not done with you. Don't get all sleepy on me yet."

She laughs again, dreamily, about to respond with a smart remark but he flips her over quickly, causing her to shriek. He props her up on her knees, pulling up on her waist before he finally shrugs out of his sweatpants. He climbs onto the bed, taking her full behind into his hands and he moves right up behind her. Michonne fingers grab onto the pillows as she feels his erection against her and she pushes back into him, wiggling her behind to entice him. He chuckles, sliding his hands down her back and in between her shoulder blades before he settles them back on her hips. He spreads her cheeks before he pushes at her entrance, watching with excitement as he disappears inside of her.

Michonne gasps as she spreads for him, dropping her head to the pillows as his own deep grunt reaches her ears. Once he's to his hilt, he pauses, wiggling his hips a little to adjust to her. He rolls his head on his neck as he rubs her hips with his hands. He pulls out of her and pushes in again, groaning as excitement rips through his body. Michonne moves with him as he begins his rhythm, the sound of their skin slapping against one another's filling the room. Rick slides his hand up into the center of her back, and then up into her hair as he crashes into her. He pulls her head up, Michonne grunting loudly as she backs into him, engrossed in the feeling of him in her gut.

He slows, leaning down to kiss her back before he withdraws from her. She groans and he smiles, "Oh, I'm not done with you baby."

He flips her over again and he smiles down on her, watching at she lets her legs fall in on one another, hiding her sex from him as she smirks back at him. He grabs her knees, prying them apart as he settles back in between them. He lays his weight on her before he throws her legs around his waist. He grabs her lips again with his own, digging his hands into her hair as he massages her tongue with his own. He sinks back into her awaiting body, biting at her top lip as she inhales sharply. He reaches toward her wrists, undoing her hands to free them. Her fingers snake into his hair as he rocks into her, slamming into her with a force she's never had the pleasure of feeling before. She tightens her legs around him and locks her ankles together, letting her heels bounce off of his back.

Michonne digs her fingers into his back as the pressure begins to build once more. Rick buries his head into the crook of her neck as bites down on her flesh as his own release begins to threaten him. She shudders again, her muscles suddenly tightening around him as he moves in her and his hips falter, "Mm, fuck." He snarls in her ear, pushing his knees into the back her thighs a little more as he adjusts.

The tightness of her, mixed with her wetness, her light breathing and moans, her innocence, makes him want to please her. Over and over and over again. He doesn't honestly think he could ever tire of it. He wants to own her, completely, fully. He kisses her roughly, sloppily almost, as he pulls at her hair as his hips drill into hers. She pushes her breasts into his chest as she hangs onto his sides, her body tensing beneath him again. She groans, her limbs and spine tingling, as he strokes her spot with each thrust, her orgasm threatening to consume her again.

He moans into her wet mouth, wanting her to come around him again. Needing her to. Her body tightens the third and final time and she's nothing but sensation. She erupts around him, pressing her body into his as she convulses beneath him. Rick can't contain himself any longer and spills into her immense heat, letting her envelope his length within her. His hips slow, but he still rocks inside of her as she comes down from her high. Rick breathes in the carnal scent of their sex, letting it fill his nostrils and swirl around in his head; letting it intoxicate him.

That lazy smile of hers is back, her warm breath coming out in a rushed rhythm, washing over his face. Her eyes flutter as she smiles. She lets her arms fall back onto the mattress before she covers her smile with her long fingers. She lets her giggles escape through them and in this moment, this very moment, Rick feels like a peasant among a queen. Little did he know, not only did she become his, he became hers.


	11. Chapter 11

**It's been a minute, sorry! But, you can thank Andy and Paleyfest for the inspiration for this one. Seeing that man in person is just incredible. I just wanna thank ya'll again for all of the love and support on not only this story, but all of my others! -Brittany**

* * *

 **Eleven.**

Rick stays inside of her for as long as he can, not wanting to leave her empty and cold. But, her eyes are growing heavier and heavier as the minutes pass and her giggles are subsiding quickly. He still isn't finished with her. Not yet anyway. He retreats from her incredibly warm body and pulls her up with him, cradling her in his arms, noticing how well she fits within him. She wraps her arms around his neck and silently allows him to carry her out of the room and back out into his lavish penthouse. He ascends the circular staircase slowly, dipping his eyes toward her every now and again. He moves them into his bedroom, making a straight line to his sprawling bathroom.

He sits her gently on the edge of his square garden tub and smirks at her as she yawns, reaching across her lap to turn on the water. He plugs the bottom before he stands, moving around the bathroom to collect his loofah and some body wash, before collecting a fresh towel, "Lesson three," He starts quietly as he holds out his hand to her, "I like to bathe my subs after we play."

She smiles a little, again taking his hand to stand. He helps her into the warm cocoon of liquid and then settles in behind her. He sweeps her thick locks up into his hands gingerly, piling it up onto the top of her head before he ties it up in a bun with a black hair tie. A lone dread falls against her back but he sweeps it over her shoulder and starts his slow washing of her. He starts with her back, lathering her silky skin gently, tilting his head as he works. He outstretches her arms and she smiles as his fingers brush against her skin. He presses his chest into her back, nuzzling into her neck and the side of her face as he turns his attention to her chest.

He sweeps the loofah and vanilla scented body wash over her breasts and nipples, encouraging her to lay back into him. She eyes him all the while, with a mystical smile on her face. She studies his features, each delicate line on his face. The crinkles by his eyes, that strong nose and jaw line. His salt and pepper beard scratches at her temple and she's tempted to reach up and stroke his cheek, just to feel it. But she resists, not sure if she's supposed to touch him without permission. Rick moves to her stomach and then legs, throwing each one up on the side of the tub so he can properly attend to them.

He finishes bathing her, officially ending it with a few kisses to the side of her neck and shoulder. He stands and exits the tub, extending his hand to her again to help her out. He wraps her up in the fluffy white towel, rubbing at every inch of her to dry her and lifts her again into his arms. He carries her back into his bedroom and sets her gently at the edge of the bed, "Sit here. I'll be back in a moment."

She nods, "Yes Sir." She answers softly, never taking her eyes off him as he retreats back into the bathroom.

She hears the water of the shower start and purses her lips. He gets to bathe her but she can't watch him? That seems _slightly_ unfair. But a deep yawn interrupts her thoughts as sleep threatens to invade her body. She rolls her shoulders before stretching slightly, willing herself to not fall back into the large bed and close her eyes. His room is immaculate. Not a thing out of place, not a speck of dirt or dust anywhere. It's simply decorated with not much furniture but his bed, two night stands, and an entertainment center concealing a large, flat screen TV. The bed is covered with white sheets and a large, fluffy soft comforter. Six large pillows are propped perfectly against one another and the headboard, a sleek black remote laying perfectly in the center of his bed.

She turns her head to the right, leaning back a little as she tries to peer into what seems to be his closet, her curiosity trying to get the best of her. She hears the water stop and snaps back to attention, laying her hands flat on her thighs as she wiggles her toes into his white carpet. He emerges a few minutes later, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, his dark hair dripping with excess water. She drags her eyes down his bare chest, swallowing deeply as her eyes roam freely over his sun kissed skin. He's not overly muscular but his body is perfectly toned for his medium build and body frame. A few freckles kiss his square shoulders and Michonne bites her bottom lip as her eyes move down his chest and flat stomach. She stops at the dark patch of pubic hair that peeks out above the towel. She sighs. _Don't be like Christian, don't be like Christian, don't be like Christian_ , she repeats in her head as she recalls his fear of being touched. She _really_ wants to touch him.

Michonne yawns again, covering her mouth her with hand. Rick could devour her again as he watches her, which is most unusual at this point in the night. By now, he would have escorted her down the hall and into his spare bedroom. He would have retreated into his cave and would finished his routine on his own. He certainly wouldn't have entertained the thought of fucking her again, in his room, in his bed. His subs have free roam over his entire apartment, everywhere except for here; this space. This is his. But not tonight. Not with her. He shakes the thoughts from his head and drops his towel, bunching it in his hands before he reaches for her hand again.

She stands with his help, letting him remove her towel from her and watching as he folds them neatly before returning them to his bathroom. He leads her to the side of the bed and pulls the covers back, continuing to hold her hand as she situates herself into the comfortable cocoon of blankets and mattress. She watches him move to his door, shutting off the overhead light. The soft illumination of the moon splashes in on them, helping her eyes find his form as he moves toward his side of the bed. He climbs in next to her and reaches toward his nightstand, pulling open the top drawer. He grabs something and then shuts it as Michonne rolls over to face him, shoving her hands underneath the pillow that she's laying on.

"Chocolate, Ms. Moreau?" He asks softly.

She laughs lightly, never pegging him as a late night snack eater. She holds out one of her hands and he breaks off a square of the milk chocolate and almond bar, pressing it into her palm. She watches him as he pops a square into his mouth, chewing slowly as he stares up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. She giggles again, "You eat in bed Sir?"

He nods enthusiastically, like a little boy, as he smirk, "Guilty pleasure."

She smiles hard, before chewing on her own piece before she nestles down into the pillows and warm blankets. Her eyes close, and within minutes she's falling deeper and faster into sleep. She feels him curl around her, his arm draping over her, his leg pushing in between both of hers as he crushes her to his chest. The last cognizant thought she has is his masculine scent filling her nostrils as she finally gives into hibernation.

The bright sun breaks into the sleepy world of one Michonne Moreau. She groans a little, rolling over to face the door and get away from the intrusive light. She takes a deep breath before her eyes crack open for the first time. Her vision is blurry at first but as soon as it clears, she rolls over on her back, sprawling her arms out to either side of her. She glances around but after a few minutes, she stares up at the ceiling. She's here. She is really here. It wasn't just an erotic dream after all. She sits up slowly, letting the blankets fall away from her naked body and bunch at her waist. She bites on the tip of her finger as the events of last night replay in her head. The club, the show that young couple put on, Rick's mouth and hands all over her…

Michonne notes the dull soreness throughout her whole body but most evident between her legs. It's a good soreness. He's been there; and he's left her a reminder. She smiles, letting out a breath before she drops her head in her hands, laughing a little. She stretches out, glancing to her side, noticing that the bed is neatly made on his side. A pair of black boxers and a crisp, white t-shirt is folded on his pillow, with a toothbrush, still in the package, placed on top. She grabs the items and traipses into his lavish bathroom, illuminating it before walking up to the long counter with the single faucet dead center. She eyes herself in the large mirror, unable to keep the smile off her face as a new woman stares back at her. A vibrant woman, a woman full of new life.

She brushes her teeth and then slips into his t-shirt and boxers before she moves out of his bedroom. She tiptoes down the hall, hearing him moving about below her. The radio is on, DJ Khaled and Drake's _For Free_ mixing with the sounds of pots and pans clanking around. She takes the stairs gingerly, as each step she takes she's reminded of their romp from the night before. Her sex aches as her body moves. Oh yes, he's been _there_. She hits the main floor and smiles at him as she approaches, becoming a little shy underneath his intense stare.

Rick grins at her, before dropping his eyes back toward the pan with his fluffy, yellow eggs, "Good morning." He offers as she takes a seat at the bar, "How are you feeling?"

"Umm," She starts, placing her chin in her palm as she eyes his naked torso, "A little sore to be honest."

"Your wrists?"

She tilts her head a little, sending her eyes toward the wall of windows to her right as she smirks, "Among other areas."

Rick flicks his eyes toward her, picking up her drift. His eyes are bright in the sunlight but mischievous, like a teenage boy with a secret, "Would you like some Advil?"

She shakes her head, smiling back at him, "I'll live." She glances around the large kitchen as he continues to move around and the song changes to _They Don't Know_ by Rico Love. Her eyes land on the big digital clock on the wall, flashing ten seventeen am, "Oh shit! Do you have my phone?" She asks, jumping from the stool.

"It's on the table." He points behind her, "Everything okay?"

She runs toward her clutch, ripping her iPhone from it and scrolling through her contacts. She puts it on speaker as it rings, turning back toward Rick, "Thanks for calling The Flashpoint Paradox, this is Beth, how can I help you?"

"Beth! I'm so sorry! I completely forgot about you." Michonne exclaims, covering her forehead with her palm.

Beth laughs a little, "Gee, thanks," She smirks, rolling her eyes toward Noah, "Noah's here, we're all good."

"You called him in? He's is probably exhausted between school and interning for Rick. God, tell him to go home, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Michonne," Beth sighs, "He called me last night, he needs the money. Maggie texted me and said you had had a late night so I covered it."

Michonne groans, walking back to the bar and leaning against it, "I still feel bad. I've been a terrible boss lately."

"You know, if you'd just agree to make me manager, you could have more time with your new boy toy." Beth answers, hinting at their previous conversation a few months before, "I have done this before, you know."

Michonne nods, glancing up at Rick as he eyes her, "Yes, I know. We'll talk about it, okay? You sure you guys are okay?"

"Yes! Plus, Carl is gonna come in later this afternoon to help. He's officially ungrounded."

Rick tenses at the sound of the name, dropping his eyes from her to the pan beneath him. Before she can pick up on it, he turns, shaking his head a little to clear the thoughts as he grabs two plates, "Oh great, I've missed him. Tell him I said hi."

"Will do. Will you get off the phone now please? We're fine."

"Okay, okay," Michonne laughs, lowering the phone to the bar, "Call me if you need anything."

"We won't. Have a good day!" Beth replies sweetly, before hanging up on her favorite boss.

Michonne scoffs a little, smiling as she shakes her head, "You know, most people wouldn't hang up on their boss. I should put a stop to that."

He chuckles, turning toward her as he begins to pile their plates with eggs and sausage and hash browns, "She's a good kid. You should really think about making her manager."

"Oh yeah? You giving me business advice now?"

He hands her a plate before turning toward the fridge to grab her a bottle of water, "She responsible, reliable, and keeps calm when situations arise. She could be a great asset to you and your new boy toy." He winks. Michonne watches as he places the salt, pepper, and ketchup up on the bar before sliding a fork her way. He places a plate of toast next to her and motions toward his spread of jams, "Strawberry, blackberry, apple or grape?"

"Apple, please."

"Good choice."

He walks around the bar and sits next to her, "Noah respects Beth, that's all the makings of a good manager."

Michonne shrugs, before digging into her crisp hash browns, "Yeah," She says after a moment, "Carl likes her too."

Rick cuts his eyes toward her, "Carl?" He asks, clearing his throat before he bites into a piece of toast.

"Yeah, he's just a kid, just turned 18. He's been coming to the shop for about a year. He wanted to buy a car so he came to me a couple months back about a job. Didn't see why not."

Rick isn't even really listening anymore. He chews slowly as his mind goes wild. _Maybe it's him,_ "Is he from Atlanta? Or Georgia?" He asks suddenly.

She shrugs again, biting into her eggs, "I don't think so. He told me he moved here from California." She glances over at him, tilting her head as she notices his new tense demeanor, "You okay?"

 _Shane's mother was from California._ Rick inhales slowly, his eye drifting as his mind races over the information. _Maybe I missed something, maybe_ \- "Rick? You okay?" Michonne pipes up again, tilting her head a little.

He clears his throat, swallowing before he shakes his head. _You looked in California, you know that. It can't be him…_ "Yeah, yeah. Sorry," He laughs a little, trying to shake off the thoughts, "So, um, yeah, you should uh, you should let Beth take some of your slack."

She takes another bite of her hash browns, before sipping on her water, "I'll think about it."

He chuckles at her rather controlling nature, "I'm the only control freak allowed around here, Ms. Moreau."

"Is that so?" She smirks, tossing her eyes toward him as she takes another bite.

His mouth drops open as he scoffs a little, "We are gonna have to work on that mouth of yours, aren't we? Eat up, I have another lesson for you."

Her eyes grow wide as she stares over at him for a second but her heart lurches in her chest. Eat up she does. After their hearty breakfasts, Rick clears their plates and grabs her hand, leading her back into his favorite room. Instead of making her kneel, he walks her into the middle of the room and toward the bed, letting her take a seat before he moves to his Italian made chest of drawers. He pulls out a few items, shutting the drawers softly before he moves back toward her. He throws the toys on the bed, drawing her attention to them as he plucks a few bundles of rope from their hooks.

"What lesson are we on, Ms. Moreau?" He asks, undoing a bundle of rope.

"Um," She thinks, "I think four? Sir."

"Lesson number four," He says absentmindedly, "Do you know that the B in BDSM stands for, Michonne?"

She nods, "Yes Sir. Bondage."

"Very good. Do you know what the rest stands for?"

"Bondage, Domination, Sadism, and Masochism." She recites proudly.

He smiles proudly back at her, "Very good, Ms. Moreau. You should know, I'm not so much into the S&M, but I am very big in the B&D. Lesson number four will be bondage." He moves to her, reaching out his hand with the rope, "This is silk and bamboo. It's soft and flexible," He explains as she runs her fingers over the red rope, "But doesn't stretch much, so the key when being tied in this, is to try not to move or you might end up with friction burns. Understand?"

She nods, taking a breath, "Yes Sir."

"Can you remove your shirt and boxers please?" She does as she's told, standing to pull the cotton material over her head and stripping out of his boxers, revealing her naked form, "Middle of the bed, please, Indian style."

She follows his orders, placing her hands on her thighs as she sits up straight. He climbs in behind her, reaching around her to grab both of her arms. He pulls them behind her back and begins to restrain her, "I'm going to put you in a frogtie, familiar with it through your research?"

"Yes Sir, I am."

He kisses her shoulder, "God you're good. Palms together." She flattens her palms and keeps her head straight, centering her breathing as she feels the rope around her arms and wrists. Once he's finished, he tugs a little on his handiwork, "Comfortable?"

"Yes Sir."

He moves around to her front and picks up two more bundles of rope, "This is the same material. I'm going to tie your ankles to your thighs."

"Yes Sir."

He helps her uncross her legs before he starts to tie her again. He lets his devilish fingers linger along her smooth skin a little longer than necessary, rubbing and tickling her slightly as he tightens the rope. Once he's finished he sits back on his hunches, not able to hide the contain the toothless smile on his face, "Feeling alright?"

Michonne shifts a little, rolling her shoulders before wiggling her hips a little. She feels a little exposed, her bent legs exposing her sex entirely to him, "It's a little strange, but I'll get used to it Sir."

He smiles again. He reaches beside her and picks up a small, gold vibrator, "This is called the Satisfyer Pro 2."

She laughs a little, "That's cute."

"And very effective." He adds lowly, his eyes shifting from bright blue to a darker shade, "It sucks and vibrates. I want you to feel it, all of it, okay? Don't hold back, just try not to move." He picks up a purple silk scarf and moves behind her again, "Is it alright if I blindfold you?"

She inhales audibly, but nods quickly, "Yes Sir."

He eyes her from the side, roaming over her features to try and read her, "If you're not comfortable," He starts.

"Please Sir."

Rick takes a deep breath but kisses her cheek gently, extremely proud of her willingness to trust him, "Thank you." He whispers, before wrapping the soft material around her head, covering her eyes.

Once her vision is gone, Michonne tries to focus on her breathing, trying to keep it steady. She jumps slightly as his cool fingers drag up her sides. She hears the vibrator turn on and releases a breath through her teeth. She feels his chest against her arms and then the small, gold device against her breast. She clears her throat a little as it sucks lightly on her already tingly, sensitive skin. He brushes it along her nipple and she jumps, inhaling sharply as it pulls on her stiff bud. Rick reaches around and stimulates her left breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers as he begins to lick and nibble on her neck and earlobe.

She moans lightly, straining her neck into him a little more as her sensitivity heightens. He changes the program with a press of a button and the suction and vibration intensifies. He moves the gold toy down her stomach, pushing it lower and lower until it is mere centimeters from the apex between her legs. He lets it linger on the extra sensitive skin, causing her to drop her head back on his shoulder as her breath escapes her louder and faster as the minutes drag forward. She hisses, sucking her teeth a little as she squirms, feeling the restraints on her thighs tighten as she moves.

"Let me hear you baby," He coos into her ear, biting down on her ear, "Let yourself feel it."

He pushes it lower, over her swollen center she lets out the most glorious, high pitched moan he's ever had the pleasure of hearing. He groans a little, shifting as his lower half reacts to the sound. He's so hard it hurts. He begins circling the toy around her silky, wet folds and center, letting it suck lightly, before it releases. Michonne begins pushing her hips forward into his hand and the toy repeatedly, creating more friction as he palms her left breast. She writhes around him, not caring as her leg restraints begin to bite into her skin as she struggles. He pushes the gold toy against her again and she grunts loudly, tossing her body forward at the pressure and dropping her head.

With his free hand, Rick pushes into his sweatpants and boxers, stroking himself gently to relieve some of the building pressure. He groans softly as she writhes against him. Her scent, mixed with her moans is providing a high better than any alcohol or drug could produce. If she keeps this up, Rick won't last much longer than her. Michonne jerks against him, her hands now twisting and turning against the rope as this magical device draws her closer and closer to a sweet release. The ropes around her legs dig into her skin, adding a delicious pain to her rising pleasure. Rick pushes the vibrator against her a little harder, the device pulling at her swollen clit quickly before releasing then repeating it all over again.

She finally erupts, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado, destroying everything in its wake. She throws her head back onto his shoulder, pushing her chest out and into his free hand as she convulses. Rick lowers his head to her shoulder and pumps himself harder at the sight of her, the _sound_ of her. He tosses the vibrator to the side and pushes her softly forward until her pretty behind is in the air. He pulls himself free from his pants, not even bothering to pull them all the way off. He pushes into her awaiting body and wastes no time. He grabs her still bound hands as he pounds into her wet flesh. He pushes her through her first orgasm and quickly pulls at a second one as he drills into her.

Michonne's moans grow louder as her body tightens from his assault. She bounces forward with each powerful thrust and she bites down on the sheets as she wallows loudly. Rick grabs her fingers, squeezing them tightly as he bends over her slightly, his movements becoming hurried as his release climbs. Her muffled grunts fill the room, mixing with his and the sounds of their bodies crashing against each other. He releases her fingers to grab a fist full of her hair, causing her to hiss loudly as he yanks on it. He crashes into her one last time and completely loses himself, shooting his hot stream into her tight walls. He grunts loudly as he continues to spurt and she tightens around him, again finding her own release in his.

He breathes deeply as his body empties and he licks at his teeth like a cocaine addict once they've gotten their fix. He lets the air leave his lungs through his teeth as he comes down from his high, keeping a firm grasp on her hips as he pulls out of her slowly before dipping into her lake once more. He finally pulls out of her, leaning back on his hunches as he tilts his head back toward the ceiling, smiling and chuckling slightly as he rubs her behind. Michonne worms around beneath him, trying to calm her own breathing as her hands and wrists rub against one another.

He unties her hands first, and then her ankles from her thighs and lets her stretch out on her stomach before him. She stretches like a cat, rolling her wrists slightly. He leaves her blindfold on but picks up her right leg and kisses the soul of foot before biting down on her big toe. She giggles, smoothing her face into the blankets as she pulls her hands underneath her head. She takes a deep breath and lets the smile spread across her face as her mind settles into a calm nothingness. Rick continues to play with her feet, leaning up against the headboard as he keeps his eyes on her naked body, completely devoid of any words. This is different. This is new; for both of them.

Rick watches her until he's sure that she's asleep again, her back rising and falling with a succinct rhythm. He glances at the clock on the wall and sighs, knowing that he should check his email or at the very least, check his phone. But, her warm body calls out to him, begging him to stay with her. So, he does. He massages her feet as he rests his head against the headboard, closing his eyes after a few minutes. For the first time since he was a teen, Rick Grimes takes a nap. He's lulled into a sweet slumber by a pretty girl and her pretty feet on a pretty Saturday afternoon.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for delay guys! I've had this written for a while but it took me a minute to get to the editing due to work. If anyone is interested in seeing some of the clothes/accessories that I mention in the chapter, head on over to my tumblr. I'm going to upload pictures and links to where you can find them :)**

* * *

 **Twelve.**

The sun hasn't risen yet but it's close. The sky is brightening up, going from a deep black to more of a purplish haze. The stars are disappearing and the early birds are just now beginning to chirp. Ricks' eyes scan around the wall, over Michonne's head as she continues to inhale and exhale softly; like a metronome. Her back is pressed to his front, his arm thrown over her side, his leg pushed in between hers. Two nights in a row she's been in here, in his room. Two nights in a row he shared his secret chocolate stash with her. This is… _nothing, it's nothing. She's new to this, she shouldn't be alone. She needs you close, in case she has questions, or gets uncomfortable._ His mind wanders from the thoughts as he tries to convince himself. That's his story and he's sticking to it. For now.

His mind drifts again, just like it has all night long. He's been awake for hours as thoughts of his little boy plague him. God, he was so beautiful. Looked just like Lori, but he always had Ricks' eyes. Big, wide, blue; but everything else was Lori. From his light skin tone, his strikingly dark brown hair, right down to his curious but sometimes rather testy personality. His baby boy. It's been seventeen years since he's seen his baby boy. Rick takes a breath and then another, blinking slowly. He untangles himself from the small woman beside him and sits up on the side of the bed, raking his hands through his hair before dropping his head. _It's not him, it can't be him Rick. You looked all over California._

He can't get it out of his head. He had to have missed something. A mother and a one year old child just cannot vanish off the face of the earth. _Unless they want to. She wanted to._ He stands and heads to his closet to grab a pair of boxers. He shrugs into them and grabs his phone before exits his room quietly, turning to let his eyes linger on the pretty girl in his bed before he leaves. He treads downstairs and thumbs through his contacts until he lands on her name. He hits the contact and brings the phone to his ear, gazing out of his bay windows out onto the city he loves so dear.

"Rick?" A groggy voice answers a few moments later.

"Carol, hi. Sorry it's-"

"Late, yeah. Or early, rather." She sits up in her bed a little, rubbing her eyes, "What's up?"

Rick takes another breath as he begins to pace a little in the moonlight, "I met," He pauses, dropping his head again, wondering if he's doing the right thing. But he can't let it go, he can't, not until he knows for sure, "I met a woman, Michonne Moreau, she owns a comic book store in Atlanta. She has a kid that works for her, he's eighteen, his name is Carl. I just-"

"Give me a minute." She pipes up quietly, throwing her legs over her bed.

She moves through her home swiftly and quietly, her field agent training never really going away, even after all of these years. She heads into her office and plops down in her chair, her eyes scanning over the three computer monitors before her, "Michonne?" She asks, putting her phone on speaker and sitting it on her desk.

"M-i-c-h-o-n-n-e M-o-r-e-a-u." Rick spells out her name quietly, glancing back toward the stairs.

Carol taps on her keyboard, hitting enter before she leans back a little in her leather chair. Within seconds, Michonne's entire life sits before her, her SAT scores, college acceptance letters, marriage license, hell, even her driver's test score, "The Flashpoint Paradox?"

"That's it."

Carol pulls up the business, scanning through the paperwork until she comes upon her employee directory, "Okay, Beth Summers, Noah Washington and," She clicks her tongue as she scrolls down, "Here he is, Carl Hayes. Employed with her since March of '17."

"Hayes?" Rick questions, pinching the bridge of his nose as he racks his brain to try and place the surname.

"That's what it says. Give me a second, I'll look him up." Carol drags her eyes to the middle computer screen and brings up another secure program, one that only a few agents have access to. She types his name into the systems and again, within seconds, the boys' entire life is before her, "Checks out," She reads slowly, coming upon his birth certificate, "Carl Michael Hayes, born July 11th, 1999 to an Isabelle Vineyard in Long Beach California. Father listed as deceased. Carl was born in June, right?"

Rick closes his eyes, disappointment flooding through him, "Yeah, June 17th. I don't recognize Vineyard either. Lori's surname was Schofield, her grandparents' were Williams and MacNamara."

"Vineyard didn't come up in Shane's family either." She sighs a little, biting the inside of her cheek, "You could always go see the kid. I mean, we know that they had to have changed their names, it could be him."

"You don't have a picture?" He asks.

Carol shakes her head, "He's a minor. Under all of these new privacy laws, I'd have to get clearance from my superior to dig into him any further than the basics."

Rick nods slowly, "Yeah. I could be leading myself down a rabbit hole again." Rick sighs, "I can't, I can't go through that again." He says quietly, "It's not him, Carol?" Desperation drips in his voice.

Carol continues to scan through what she can of the kids' little history, coming across some sealed information, "His hospital records are sealed, but the birth certificate is legit. Looks like he was enrolled in twelfth grade here in Atlanta last August, he's actually about to graduate." She leans back in her chair, looking down at her phone as sympathy courses through her, "You should still go and see if it's him, Rick. You never know."

He closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose, before running his fingers through his hair, "No, no, I um, thanks Carol. Go back to bed."

She sighs, "You don't want me to dig into it? I can call my superior in the morning and start working on getting some warrants. It'll take me a while, but I'll do it."

"That's alright," He smiles softly, "Thank you."

"I mean it Rick, I'll dig into him and this Isabelle Vineyard." She pushes the issue because she feels like she should. Seventeen years she's been looking for Carl and for seventeen years she's come up empty. It's not often that people get away from Carol Peletier, but Lori Grimes was the exception. Year after year, she's had to look Rick in the eye, and year after year they've lost their light a little more. He just wants his little boy home. So does she.

"No, it's, it's fine Carol. I mean, what would be the odds that my new sub has employed my abducted son?" He chuckles sadly.

She nods a little, "Yeah." The line goes silent for a few moments, "We should do coffee or something soon. You can tell me about this Michonne Moreau." Her tone is light, "You know, Ezekiel has always wanted to try out that BDSM thing."

He laughs genuinely and she smiles, "Tell him to call me. Goodnight Carol. I'll keep in touch, promise."

"Goodnight Rick."

He hangs up and stares at the floor for a second, before looking out onto the city once more. He chews the inside of his lip as his focus zeros in on really nothing at all. He stands there until the sun begins to peak over the sky scrapers and high rise apartments. The sky is all sorts of oranges and blues and light pinks. It's beautiful. He turns his head slightly, collecting his thoughts as the new day begins and the old thoughts drift away again. He knows she won't be up any time soon. If he had to bet, he'd say that Michonne probably hasn't seen day break _willingly_ since she was a baby. That doesn't bother him today though. He needs the time to himself anyway.

* * *

Rick smiles gently over her as she begins to roll her head. She groans, rubbing her eyes furiously as she comes back into consciousness, "Wake up sleepy head."

Michonne grunts loudly, "Easier said than done. I am not a morning person." She huffs into the blanket as she snuggles down a little deeper into them.

"You're not a night owl either. Your ass was asleep by nine last night."

She laughs a little, cracking her eyes open to reveal his smiling face, "That is completely your fault."

Rick laughs loudly, clapping his hands a few times, "How so?"

"You've been wearing me out man! I went from zero sex for almost three years to three mind blowing experiences in the span of fourteen hours. Give me a break."

She watches as he stands from the bed and tosses a light pink box, adorned with a pink ribbon and bow, to the bed, "Mind blowing, I like that. Thank you." He moves over to the windows and opens the curtains more, allowing the sun fully into the room, "We've got a big day ahead of us Ms. Moreau and you haven't even had breakfast yet. That's for you, by the way."

Michonne sits up and takes the box in her hands. A single word, Swank, is printed across the top. She glances up at him, meeting his eyes and soft smile as he watches her. She removes the lid and pulls out a loose fitting grey t shirt, with a quarter moon and stars along with the words 'Dance All Night' printed on the front. She then pulls out a simple pair of denim shorts, ruffled along the edges, where the white material of the pockets hang lower than the actual pair of shorts are long. Underneath the clothes are a pair of white slip on flats. She smiles to herself as she eyes the clothing. He knows what she likes. Already.

"Did I get the sizes right?" He asks.

She nods, "You did."

"You like?" He asks, raising an eyebrow as he waits for her to answer.

She nods proudly again, turning toward him to bestow a bright smile, "I do. It's like I went out and bought them, thank you."

Rick only smiles in return, "Why don't you head to the shower and I'll start your breakfast." He walks back toward his door before stopping just at the threshold, "Make it snappy please, Ms. Moreau."

"Aye, aye Sir." She giggles, throwing her feet over the side of the bed as he walks out.

After a _snappy_ shower and breakfast, Michonne and Rick head out for the afternoon. He won't tell her why or where they're going but she doesn't really care about that. She's just glad to be in his company still. He even let her pick which car they could take, and she of course, chose the Tesla. She eyes him from her seat, taking note of his casual dress. Dark blue jeans and a simple black t shirt, topped with an aged burgundy hat with a cougar patch on the front. She's sitting next to multimillionaire in an eighty-thousand-dollar car and he's dressed like a boy from around the way. She now knows what the kids mean when they say get you a man that can do both.

They first pull into a popular outdoor shopping center. Michonne recognizes the place, she's been here with Maggie countless times but her rather cheap nature would never allow her to actually spend money down here. Not when she could get the exact same thing from Forever 21 for fifteen bucks anyway. They get out of the car and he grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together as he shoves the keys to his car in the back pocket of his jeans. They blend in with the other rich folks as he leads her toward Agent Provocateur, stopping to hold the door for her to enter.

"Mr. Grimes," The short haired red head behind the counter says as soon as she recognizes him, "Did we miss something? I don't remember seeing an order for you," She says in a hurry as she types furiously on the computer before her, "Megan!"

"No, no," Rick starts, lifting his hand to calm her, "I didn't order anything. Decided to shop in store today."

"Oh," The young girl starts, her eyes shifting to Michonne's, "That's um, oh." She laughs a little out of nervousness as she turns toward an older blonde woman, "He's shopping in store today Megan."

Michonne's raises an eyebrow at the two before she shifts her eyes back on Rick as he starts glancing through the racks of lingerie, "Two things. First, why are they so shocked that you're here?" She asks as she walks up beside him.

Rick shrugs as he pulls out a black lace corset and matching thong, "I usually just order this stuff on line. What size are you in this kinda thing?"

Michonne's mouth drops open a little as her eyes move around the store, the wheels in her head turning, "I dunno, a four maybe? So, you usually don't bring your subs shopping?" She asks in a hushed tone.

He shakes his head, "No." He states firmly.

He hands her the hanger with the corset and moves off deeper in the store, leaving her standing there, dumbfounded. She smiles after the information settles in her brain. She glances back at the two women behind the counter and neither one of them can believe it either. They both whisper to each other, moving their eyes between Rick and Michonne as they pretend to add price tags to the new stock. She's seriously the first one he's taken shopping. She could squeal! But she won't because, you know, she's around all these hoity toity white women.

"Ms. Moreau?" Michonne snaps to attention, her eyes wide as she gazes at him smirking at her. He saunters back over to her, handing her another hanger with a sliver and rose gold playsuit, with matching thong and pasties, "Don't make me do all the work. Start looking." He slaps her on her butt, jolting her forward, and walks off again; but not before he throws her another flirtatious grin.

Her mouth drops open again but she composes herself quickly, clearing her throat as she tucks her dreads behind her ears. If she wasn't wet enough from him buying her an outfit that she would have picked out herself without even having to consult her, her basement is certainly flooded now. The pair spend half of the afternoon in the small boutique, Rick taking his time and picking out the most revealing of lingerie for her. Michonne at least tried to be modest with her selections, but Rick vetoed all of the ones that covered up her delectable body. She has a little bit of everything, from kimonos, to bras and panty sets, to garter belts, to knickers, and corsets. From lace, to satin, to sheer, to embroidered, and floral, and in every color from the black to pink to red to nude. In others words, she'll never have to shop for underwear again for the rest of her natural life.

Her eyes widen as they stand at the register. She didn't even know the till had that many damn numbers to ring up to! She gasps as the woman rings up the Lorelli Rose Gold and Silver kimono that she had incidentally fell in love with, "Thirty four hundred dollars?!" She shrieks, grabbing onto Rick's arm out of pure shock, "Rick that is-"

He puts his index finger up to her plump lips to shush her, "Beautiful women deserve beautiful clothes, Ms. Moreau."

She scoffs, "I cannot let you spend this much on me. I can't. This is outrageous." She shrieks again a little as the total trips over the ten-thousand-dollar mark.

"Look at me," He starts, placing a finger underneath her chin to lift her face to his, "Do you like making me happy?"

She nods, "Yes."

"Yes what?" He raises his eyebrows at her.

"Yes Sir." She answers quietly.

"Then hush. Buying this stuff for you will make me happy." She opens her mouth to protest with him a little more but he cuts her off, "Don't argue with me. I won't hear another word."

 _He won't hear another word?_ She's not a kid, nor does she appreciate being talked to like one. He turns back toward the woman in front of him and hands over his black card, cutting his eyes back at Michonne before smirking quickly at her. She notes the firm tone but still has to fight the urge to not mouth off in front of everyone in the store. So, instead of shooting off her sharp tongue, she waits patiently as the lady rings up her purchase.

"Alrighty, that'll be twenty one thousand, three hundred and sixty two dollars and seventeen cents." The red head relays just as she's about to swipe Ricks' card.

"Hang on," Michonne calls, digging through her clutch and grabbing out whatever cash she has, "Okay, one hundred and two dollars and," She drags out, picking through her change, "Seventeen cents."

Rick stares at her incredulously, "Michonne," He warns.

She pays him no mind. She just smiles widely at the girl in front of her as she grabs her cash and deducts it from his total. She grabs her bags and thanks the young girl sweetly before cutting her eyes back at Rick and sticking out her tongue before she turns on her heel and heads toward the car with her newly acquired underwear. She pops the trunk and loads it up as the sun beats down on her. She closes it and jumps a little as Rick appears next to the passenger side, staring at her.

"Happy with yourself?"

She shrugs smugly, "Yep."

He digs in his pocket, pulling out one hundred and two dollars and seventeen cents and walks toward her, shoving it back in her pocket, "Test me again Michonne. I mean it." He punctuates his words by pointing at her like an errant child.

She eyes him as he walks toward the curb then down the street and toward Swank, the clothing store from this morning. Testing him is a challenge that she is willing to take. Just who does he think he's talking to? She locks the car and storms off after him, throwing open the door to Swank and heading toward the opposite end of the store from him. She rips through the clothing angrily, pulling out random items and not even really looking at it before she pulls it from the hanger and throws it over her shoulder.

" _Test me again Michonne_ ," She mocks him, slamming a hanger back onto the rack, " _I mean it_. Bull fucking shit." She mumbles, throwing a romper over her shoulder as she moves to the t shirts, "I'll show his ass a fucking test."

They ignore each other the entire time they're in Swank. Michonne is the first to head for the register, tossing her items on the counter. He joins her a moment later, placing even more clothing on top of her pile. They wait in silence as the brunette behind the counter rings them up. Michonne pulls out her phone, acting like she's going through her texts and Facebook, but she flips over to her apple pay and lets her thumb hover over the home button.

"Ok, that'll be-"

Before Heather, the cashier, can even finish her sentence, Michonne holds her phone toward the credit card reader and taps her thumb over the home button, a soft beep sounding from her phone as a green check mark illuminates on her screen, "Get the bags, will you please? Sir?" Michonne asks sweetly, smiling and batting her eyes like a good little girl.

Rick's mouth drops open as he stares back at her and her audacity. His face and ears go red as he snatches the receipt from the now nervous Heather and grabs the bags from the counter. Michonne storms back out into the sunlight and heads straight for the car, slamming the door behind her as she plops down into the seat and crosses her arms over her chest. She watches Rick through the window as he throws her bags into the trunk without a care before he slams it shut and heads toward the driver side. She lets out a breath and turns her head toward her window, not wanting to look at him as he sits into the low car.

She can feel his eyes on the back of her head but she doesn't give in, she just keeps staring right outside the window, "You are so lucky that I'm not into corporal punishment." He says after a minute, causing her to whip her head around to face him.

"Oh, so you're threatening me now?"

"No," He says lowly, his eyes dark, his ears still red, "But your little stunt in there would have earned you a night in a dog cage."

She clicks her tongue at him, "Why don't you just go ahead and beat me like Christian does."

"Oh my god!" Rick exclaims loudly, rolling his eyes as he throws his back into the seat, "If you mention that fucking book one more time, I swear!"

"Well that's what this is, isn't it? I mean, you point your finger in my face like I'm some kid and scold me in front of all those people?" She shouts back as her anger gets the best of her, "Don't argue with me Michonne, test me again Michonne!" She mocks once more, "That is bullshit Rick!"

Rick starts the car and backs out of his spot, slamming it into drive as he takes off, "Nobody even noticed, number one, and number two, if you weren't acting like a child, I wouldn't have treated you like one."

"Are you kidding me?" Michonne shrieks, her mouth falling open, "How was I acting like a child? You're the one that freaked out because I didn't want you spending all that money!"

"Didn't your mother teach you any manners? When someone buys you something, you just say thank you. That's it!" He shouts back, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white, "This is what I like," He says a moment later, trying to quell his anger at her disobedience, "I told you I like to pamper my subs, this is the pampering part."

"Not when somebody drops twenty grand on fucking underwear!" Michonne slams back into her seat and crosses her arms over her chest as she glances out the window, "You know, you can't just throw your money around and think that that shit is going to impress me. Cause let me tell you something, it doesn't." She scowls at him, squinting her eyes as she stares at the side of his face, "I don't know what kind of women you're used to dealing with, but I am not some money hungry whore that'll bow down to you just because you have a black card."

It's now Rick's turn to scoff, "Then this life ain't for you, darlin'."

"Yeah, maybe it's not." She spits back, turning toward the window once again, "And don't talk about my mama."

The rest of the car ride is silent. Once back at his apartment, he heads in one direction and she heads in the other. She decides to at least make herself useful and makes her way into his play room, heading toward the closet to hang up her new stuff. She starts with her undies, pulling out the open drawers to arrange the bras and panties first. She then starts hanging up the super expensive stuff, eyeing each garment one by one before she places it on the bar above her head. This stuff is beautiful and it's made with the best material and quality that you could ever find. Was she being ridiculous? I mean, he has a point. You are just supposed to say thank you when somebody gets you something.

She rolls her eyes at herself, scoffing a little. Letting someone spend that kind of money on her just does not sit right with her. She still has a problem when Maggie goes overboard on her, and she's her dearest friend. It just bothers her that he thinks he _has_ to do that for her. She's not like those other women. She'd be happy if he fucked her in her old Walmart bra and granny panties. Hell, he'd be able to make her feel sexy in a burlap sack. She takes a breath before she purses her lips and stares at her pretty new clothes. _Do you like making me happy?_ She clicks her teeth. She'd consider murder just make him smile at her. She sighs as she thumbs through her stuff. _This is what I like_. She sighs again. Okay, okay, _maybe_ she overreacted just a tad. But, he overreacted too. She plucks out the rose gold and silver Adora playsuit and looks it over. It is kind of cute.

The high necked, halter neck style collar is made of nothing but square, silver jewelry. Thin chains fall from the neck , adorned with more silver and rose gold squares, and meet again around the belt-like chain of more squares. The chains then fall loose, stopping right at her thighs. The matching thong is decorated just the same, glinting and shimmering in the light. She grabs the pack of pasties and strips out her shorts and t shirt. She has to rectify this situation.

Rick sits in his living room, an open Stella Artois beer to his left, the TV in front of him tuned to ESPN, and his iPad in his lap. He takes a quick drink before he sets the bottle back on the small, square end table and returns his eyes to his iPad. He scours through the Christian Louboutin website, landing on the Neoalto three-inch heel. They're made of a soft pink lace, complete with the signature Louboutin red bottom. He adds them to his basket and continues his task of shoe shopping for her since their day was cut short. He doesn't even hear her approach at first, but her thin fingers tilt the screen of his iPad down, causing him to finally look up.

The sight of her literally takes his breath away. Her beautiful, curvy body is on full display before him as the jewelry of her outfit sparkles underneath the overhead light. She stands before him with a smirk on her face and the Akiko eye mask covering her eyes. She tilts her head and the chains from her mask tilt with her. She breathes slowly, her proud breasts covered with only two little diamond shaped pasties. She kneels in front of him, crawling toward the edge of the couch on all fours before she sits up on her hunches and splaying her hands on her thighs; just how he likes. Rick tosses the iPad to the couch and sits up a little, clearing his throat as she continues to eye him from behind her mask.

"I don't like fighting with you, Sir." She says in a whisper, keeping her eyes squarely on him.

"I don't like fighting with you either, baby." Rick reveals as he reaches out and runs his large hand down the side of her face, "You are so fucking beautiful, girl."

She smiles a toothless smile at him, her plump lips painted in Maggie's matte red lipstick from a few nights earlier, "May I make it up to you, Sir?"

All Rick can do is nod. He's so hard and anxious he can't even speak. She beckons him forward with her index finger, curling it slowly to prompt him to move to the edge of the couch. He does as he's told and takes a breath as she leans up on her knees and reaches for his zipper. She drops her eyes to his crotch and undoes the button of his jeans before shooting her eyes back up to his, never losing his gaze as she unzips his fly slowly. She tilts her head seductively as she reaches inside the rim of his pants and helps him wiggle them down to his ankles. She smiles wide at the sight of his large bulge protruding against his black boxer briefs. She scrapes her fingernails up his legs and thighs as she leans up again, this time grabbing onto his undies.

She tilts her head in the opposite direction this time as she lowers her eyes to the task at hand, humming audibly as she slowly rids him of the extra clothing, "Baby, you don't have to," He says airily as his chest rises and falls harshly, his heart beating against his chest.

She puts her index finger to her lips and shushes him, shaking her head from side to side to warn him not to speak. She rests her hands on his thighs and leans up once more, massaging his skin lightly. She wastes no time in taking him in her mouth, flicking her eyes up at him after a second. She takes him in slowly, all the way down to his hilt before she comes back up, releasing him from her mouth with a pop. She puckers her lips a little and stares back up at him, biting her lip seductively. His dick jerks at the sight and she smiles widely again, giggling all the while. He smiles back at her out of pure elation, her transgressions from earlier completely fading away.

She takes him again in her mouth but wraps her hands around him and begins pumping him up and down as her tongue swirls around his tip. Rick exhales slowly as his head falls back and his hands cup her head and face. She sucks down on him, bobbing her head up and down as she rests her hands on his hips. He digs his fingers into her hair and tightens his grip suddenly, hissing as her tongue slithers down his length, "God baby." He whispers as his eyes close in content.

Michonne moans a little as she continues to bob up and down, sheathing her teeth with her lips. His hips begin to move with her, rocking slowly into her mouth as he grips onto her dreads tightly. She peaks up at him through her eyelashes and her fancy eye mask and can't help but hum slightly around him again. He's beautiful. His eyes are closed as his head is tilted toward the ceiling some. His lips are parted as he releases his breath through his teeth audibly. He rolls his shoulders slightly before he squares them again, letting out another light breath. God, she could come just watching him.

His hips begin to move faster, his grip on her hair getting tighter and tighter so Michonne takes the hint. She swirls her tongue around his tip as her hand goes back to work, pumping him hard and fast. She's usually the one losing control by this point but a sense of pride shoots through her bloodstream as Rick's moans and grunts grow louder. She wants to make him lose it for once. She's wants to make _him_ come. She releases him from her mouth but kisses his tip quickly, "You gonna come for me Sir?" She whispers as she tightens her grip around him as she works him over.

"Fuck," He groans as he tries but fails to retain his composure, "God, Michonne."

She sucks him again, accepting all of him until she's to his hilt again, "Please Sir," she goads after releasing him with another pop from her lips, "Please Daddy?" She whispers, staring at him as she sinks down on him once more.

 _Daddy._ It's incredible how one simple, one syllable word can be so powerful. Just as she's taking him all again, his hips jerk, almost violently, as his resolve gives way. She moans loudly as she bobs her head up and down on him as his salty, hot seed shoots into her wet mouth. She slows down as he empties into her mouth, her reveling in the sound of his loud orgasm. He's new to her, his ways that is, but he's usually so in control. This? This Rick is such a turn on. But, it's not about her; and she is totally okay with that.


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm thinking about making a spotify playlist for this, although, I have no idea how to make a spotify playlist, lol! It would be pretty short up until this point, but let me know if you'd be interested in one and I'll try and figure it out. Also, I just wanna thank you guys again for reading and leaving me love, not only here but on tumblr and twitter as well. I had a little breakdown after posting chapter twelve, got in my feelings, but you guys picked me back up. You are all so incredible. THANK YOU. - Britt**

* * *

 **Thirteen.**

Michonne sucks him until he's dry. She watches through her eye mask as he slumps back on the couch, his chest rising and falling with a rush. He still cups her head with his large hands, smoothing his hands over her hair as his eyes close. She leans back, releasing him with a pop one last time before she smiles again. She can't really describe the feeling that's flowing through her right now. She feels so… strong. No, confident. It's confidence that is moving through her veins like ecstasy. No man has ever quite reacted to her like this. It's addicting. She watches as a faint smile spreads on his lips as he sucks in a deep breath, then lets it go slowly. He opens his eyes. The angry dark blue is gone and replaced with the usual light, mischievous blue hue. He leans forward as his hands drop to her cheeks.

His thumbs anchor underneath her chin to tilt her face up toward his. Her lips part instinctively as her eyes flutter shut with anticipation for his mouth. When he captures her plump lips, she inhales deeply, almost hungrily. She leans up on her knees as his tongue breaks into her mouth. He helps lift her up into his lap, spreading her legs on either side of his body. He digs his hands into her hair and pulls softly, causing her to grunt and push her knees into the couch He drops his lips to her collar bone and chest as he crushes her body to his.

He leans back to admire her for a minute. Her skin radiates a golden hue underneath the dim light of his living room and the soft glow from the television. He tilts his head and smiles again, softly, and she could just melt away into a puddle of nothing. _He is so gorgeous._ He runs his hand along her smooth, exposed skin then plays with the metal squares and chains from her outfit. He wastes no time in letting his fingers slip in between her wet folds. He rubs her gently as he hardens again, just from watching her begin to squirm on top of him. Her eyes close and she moans, sending a shock right through Rick like a bolt of lightning.

He keeps his ocean deep eyes on her intently as he works her over with his fingers, not wanting to miss a moment of the passion bubbling within her. She grips his shoulders with her hands, bunching the black material of his shirt in her fingers as her head falls back. She grinds her hips into his hand as his thick fingers massage her most intimate of parts. Rick leans into her and inhales deeply, the lavender scent from her body wash clinging to her skin from her early morning shower. His pink tongue peaks out from behind his lips and connects with the sensitive skin of her clavicle. He licks her, slowly, up to her neck before he bites down on her flesh and grunts loudly as she digs her nails into his skin.

Michonne throws her arms around his head, resting her elbows on his strong shoulders as her fingers dangle around the top of his head. The electrical current of her imminent orgasm rushes through her, bouncing off her walls as her stomach tightens with a great need. She lowers her head, her locs cocooning them from the outside world. Rick tilts her head up toward him as his lips part and the air in his lungs rushes harder and faster. He slips a finger, and then a second, inside of her and smiles slightly to himself as she gasps from the sudden intrusion. She lifts as her body stiffens, but then sinks down on his devilish digits, rolling her hips to intensify the friction.

Rick uses his thumb to continue to tease her clit, rubbing slow circles, then quickening his pace suddenly as he applies more pressure, pressing down on her. His index and middle finger pump in and out, in and out, in and out with a methodical rhythm. He curls his long fingers within her and flicks his eyes back up toward her as a shudder rips through her. _There it is._ He strokes her g spot softly, enjoying the vibration that rings through his body from her shivering. She mutters incoherently, stopping only to hiss or moan as her release builds in the pit of her stomach. She can feel it in the tips of her toes to the ends of every follicle of hair on her head. She wants it _bad_.

He pushes his fingers into her a deep as he can, curling them once more to caress her sweet spot. Her body quivers and her walls tighten around him. Her thighs shake involuntarily and she stiffens again. She is so close. Her breath hitches in her throat as the deep tingle within her rushes toward the surface. Within seconds, her orgasm spreads through her like wildfire, burning down every nerve and sensor she has in her. Rick wraps his free arm around her waist, crushing her to him as his wet fingers continue to please her through her release. His own breath is ragged as it splashes against her and causes goosebumps to spring along her smooth skin. Michonne presses her forehead to his as the waves of her orgasm wash through her. Rick nips at her lips as they brush against his and she smiles as giggles begin to erupt from within.

His fingers slow down to nearly no movement at all. Her orgasm begins to fade away and it's just him and her, breathing. Ricks' eyes roam over her face, etching this moment in his mind. Her eyes are closed; her dark eyelashes resting gently against her brown skin. Her lips are parted slightly and she hums every now and again as she absentmindedly begins to bite down on her bottom lip. He pulls out of her but leaves his fingers in between her legs, running them along her silky folds. She smiles softly; and he could melt. Rick Grimes could fucking melt. He's never been this proud of himself. He's made tons of women come, in all sorts of ways, time and time and time again, but she is proving to be something different. Something new. Something incredibly _addicting_.

She hums again and giggles, "Are you hungry?"

He laughs right back, nuzzling his face into hers a little, "After all of that, all you have to say is are you hungry?"

"It doesn't take much to make me hungry." She laughs again.

"Oh gee, thanks." He rolls his eyes playfully.

"That's not what I meant," She swats at his shoulder, "I meant I want to make you dinner, if you're hungry that is."

He leans back, that smile spreading across his face again, "You don't have to."

She leans into him, puckering her lips and he takes the bait, inhaling deeply as he kisses her, pushing his tongue into her mouth once more. They disconnect slowly, both of their eyes closed as they let their lips linger against one another. She doesn't want to move, she wants to stay in his warmth forever, but she's worked up an appetite. Her stomach rumbles and Rick laughs a little, leaning back against the couch as his hands splay along her thighs. He loves the stark contrast between their skin; and he loves how beautiful she looks on top of him.

"I'm gonna make dinner, okay Sir?"

Rick just nods in return, his eyes following her as she slinks off of him and traipses toward the stairs. She disappears back into the playroom, heading toward her closet to grab her kimono. She skips back down the stairs and into the kitchen, taking a minute to admire it. She stops at the sink to wash her hands and watches as he rearranges himself back into his boxers before he sinks a little lower into the couch. She rolls her eyes but smiles as he turns up the volume and takes a swig of his beer. Boys. She turns and pulls open the fridge and freezer, spotting a bag of fresh, uncooked shrimp. She pulls it out and opens his pantry, her eyes widening at the sheer depth of it. She could get lost in here! She steps inside and begins plucking things from the shelves; limes, a bag of white rice, tortillas, potatoes, cilantro leaves and various spices.

She deposits her items on the counter and pokes around until she finds some pans, a half full bottle of white wine and a wine glass. She pours herself a glass and notices his Amazon echo tucked away in the corner of the kitchen, "Alexa," She pauses as the blue ring illuminates, "Play Sade."

No Ordinary Love begins playing softly through the speaker and the chef takes her podium. Rick glances over the couch as the sizzle of sautéing shrimp and the smell of frying potatoes invades his senses. She dances a little as she hums along, tossing the shrimp in the pan before she takes a sip of her wine. She turns her back to him to pay attention to her rice and his eyes fall to her swaying hips, the jewelry of her play suit swinging with her. He can't even stop himself. He's up and moving toward her like a cheetah advancing on a gazelle in the wild. He grabs her and she gasps a little before falling into a fit of laughter. He pulls her into him.

He moves with her as she throws her arms over his shoulders, their lower bodies grinding into one another as they dance. He releases her long enough to spin her around before she crushes her body against his once more. Michonne smiles up at him in awe, her eyes wide and sparkling as her hands run down to his biceps. Is there anything this guy can't do?

"What are you smiling at, Ms. Moreau?" He asks, smirking as he spins her again. She laughs and falls back into him, letting him move her around the kitchen with ease. Before she can answer, he croons along with the soul singer, "When you came my way,"

"You brightened every day, with your sweet smile." She joins in, "Didn't I tell you, what I believe? Did somebody say that, a love like that won't last?"

"Didn't I give you, all that I've got to, give baby?"

Michonne laughs again as he finishes the line and the hook starts, "So you sing, you dance, you're good in bed, _and_ you eat chocolate at midnight? You sir, are what I am smiling at. You're a myth!"

"No ma'me," He chuckles in return, dipping her, "I'm just a man with a sweet tooth."

Her potatoes sizzle and she jumps a little, pulling away from him to remove them from the electric stove, "Go sit," She laughs, "You're distracting me, per the usual."

Rick chuckles and throws up his hands, turning to grab a wine glass of his own and pours himself a drink. He plops down behind the bar and calls out to the TV, "TV, mute." Instantly, it's just him and her and Sade.

He watches her as she moves around, pulling the shrimp and rice from the burners before throwing some tortillas on the grill section to crisp them slightly. She pops a piece of shrimp into her mouth, tilting her head a little as she grabs another lime and squeezes it over the pan, then sprinkles a little more salt. She plates the rice and potatoes, squeezing another half of lime over them and cutting up some cilantro to add a little more flavor. She prepares three tacos for him and three for herself, before cutting up yet another lime and placing a wedge on the both of their plates. She slides one in front of him, averting her eyes nervously from his before she steps around to join him on the other side.

Rick pours her another glass of wine and tops his off, "This smells so good." He compliments, rubbing his hands together a little.

She smiles proudly, "Thank you, I hope you like it."

She watches as he digs into his cilantro lime rice, chewing slowly before nodding his head in approval. Her smile grows wider as he moves to the potatoes and then finally the shrimp tacos, "My god," He laments, swallowing before he places his hand to his heart, "You think _I'm_ the myth?"

She laughs again and finally digs into her own plate, "You like?"

"This is incredible. I wouldn't expect a French girl to be an expert at Mexican food."

"Fun fact about me," She says in between chews, "I love Mexican, but I hate French food."

"No shit?" He laughs, "How's that for irony?"

She nods, biting into her taco, "If it's anything other than a baguette or cheese, I ain't eating it."

"Dually noted." It quiets between them after a few minutes and the song shifts to The Moon and the Sky. They eat quietly, sipping on their wine, stealing glances at one another before they smile softly and avert their eyes, "Are we going to talk about this or no?" He pipes up, smirking at her as he fills his fork with more rice.

Michonne sheepishly peaks up at him through her eyelashes, "About what?" He smiles in return and she rolls her eyes playfully, "No?" He squints at her and she laughs, burying her face in her hands, "I thought the sex and the food was enough to bury this whole thing."

Rick laughs again, shaking his head as he picks up his wine glass, letting it linger around his lips, "Nope."

"Ughh," She groans, "I'm sorry. I wasn't mad because you wanted to get me that stuff, it's just, I am not used to somebody just throwing money at me like that. I'm a cheap ass, I have a hard time spending more than thirty bucks on a bra."

"I understand." He says softly, watching her all the while.

"But, it was," She stops speaking and sighs. She really doesn't want to get into this.

"Michonne," He drags out, watching those wheels turn in her head, "Talk to me."

She rolls her eyes again, letting her shoulders slump a little, "I just didn't like how you were talking to me. That's it. That's why I lost my shit. You haven't been like _that_ with me yet and I wasn't ready for it. I know you're not always going to be like," She holds her hand out toward him, "This, and I need to keep sight of that. I'm sorry."

Rick furrows his eye brows a little, "Be like what, exactly?"

She gestures toward him again, "Like this! All gentle and sweet and nice."

Rick scoffs a little, "I'm offended. I _am_ gentle and sweet and nice, _all_ of the time."

"That's not what I meant," She laughs, "I mean, it's not always going to be like this, right? Us sitting and having dinner and talking and laughing. You're going to get tougher and more authoritative," She trails off a little, "More dominant. I need to learn how to not be _me_ when that happens if this is going to work. I told you, I don't deal well with authority." She laughs again, remembering the times she was held in contempt for arguing with the many judges she used to work with.

Rick listens to her intently, his eyes dropping away from her slightly before he makes full eye contact again. _I need to learn how to not be me…_ he doesn't like that. Not one bit, "Well, we have to learn what works for us, Michonne. It's really not as cut and dry as you're making it."

She squints a little, trying to make sense of what he's saying versus everything she read, "Yeah but in the stuff Maggie gave me to read, there didn't seem to be many gray areas. It was submissive and Dominant, he or she speaks and the other listens, that's it. Sounds pretty cut and dry to me." She laughs quietly.

"We aren't there yet." He answers simply, shrugging just a tad.

"I know, but that's what you want. Isn't it?" She asks tilting her head a little, her eyes sparkling again in the light as they question him.

Rick isn't sure how to answer that question now. Before this weekend, it would have been a firm yes; that is _exactly_ what he wanted. If any one of his subs had behaved the way she had this afternoon, they'd be severely punished (sexually of course), if not dismissed entirely. He just simply didn't have the patience for disobedience. Until now. Right this very minute. He lost his cool in the moment but didn't even blink an eye about it after that. He never even thought of inducting her to a session of severe orgasm denial. One of his personal favorite punishments is revoking his subs' speaking privileges for the day or weekend, or week; depending on the severity of the crime. But it never even crossed his mind today. One weekend. Two and a half days with this woman and she has him questioning his entire rulebook. He couldn't imagine her not being _her_ , hell, that's what he likes about her! She challenges him, and he likes that. That will stay his little secret.

"Rick," She says softly after a moment, taking his silence for anger, "I'm sorry, I really am. Please don't rethink this, I can do it, I can."

"Stop, don't be sorry." He starts, "This is a tough transition, I know that and I should have kept that in mind earlier. I shouldn't have lost my temper, that doesn't happen often, I promise you."

"Oh god," She groans again, covering her face once more, "I'm the only one that's made you mad?"

He grabs her hands and pulls them away, chuckling "Not in the slightest. Every sub I've had has pushed my buttons in one way or another. I like to control myself in more ways than just sexually. Listen to me," He pulls her a little closer until their knees are touching, "You are doing just fine, don't let that head of yours get you all twisted up. We stumbled, that's going to happen. I need to keep in mind that you're still learning. It's been a long while since I've dealt with a novice. We'll get to where we want to be, _together_ , okay?"

She lowers her head into his hands a little before sneaking a smile up at him a few seconds later, "I really do like the stuff you bought me."

"Good, because it won't be the last time I buy you something expensive." She glances around, clicking her tongue a little and leans back, "Okay, Ms. Moreau?"

"Yes Sir." She smiles back.

"And, I'm sorry for bringing up your mother."

Michonne laughs loudly, throwing her head back and clapping her hands together, causing him to laugh along with her, "That was pretty low."

"I admit, I was wrong for that." He laughs, "If somebody talks about my mama, I'm ready to fight."

"You're so stupid." She shakes her head as her laughs die away. She picks at her food, pushing some of her rice and potatoes together, "I really am sorry. I'll try harder."

He shakes his head at her in return, cupping her cheek with his large hand, "You don't have to try harder baby." His voice is almost a whisper, not wanting her to feel this way, "I'm in control and I dropped the ball today. It's my fault. Don't feel like this, okay?"

She smirks at him before finishing off her food. She can feel him watching her but she's growing more and more accustomed to it. She likes it, if she has to tell the truth. She rests her elbow on the bar and rests her cheek in her palm, turning her eyes back to his, "What are you thinking?"

He picks up his wine glass and finishes off his drink, "Truth or dare?" He asks.

"What?" She laughs again.

"Truth or dare Ms. Moreau?"

"Really? Like we're seven?"

"Yes, really." He says, pouring them two new glasses of wine, "Our relationship is more than just sex, we need to know each other, intimately."

"Alright," She gives in, smiling brightly, "Truth."

"I knew it, you goodie two shoes." He revels in her laughter as he rubs his hands together, trying to come up with something to ask, "Okay, you said on our first date that you envy Maggie because she doesn't take any shit."

"Oh god, you remember that?" She asks, her mouth hanging open in a half grin, half shocked expression.

He nods, "How? From this afternoon, I can't imagine you taking shit from anybody."

"Well, you irked me." She rolls her eyes as she shakes her head. She quiet for a moment as she thinks over her answer. She shrugs a little, her eyes cast toward his bay windows, "I wasn't always like this. I wasn't always this timid. I used to not take any shit." Rick doesn't speak, he just sips on his wine as he waits for her to fill in the gaps for him, "My husband, Mike, was," She stops, "He liked to pick."

"Pick?"

"You're going to wear that? Do you really have to say it like that way? I don't think you're doing it right, _honey_. Why don't you try it this way, _sweetie_." She recalls, placing her wine glass to her lips but not taking a sip, "I just dealt with it, didn't really let it bother me much but I guess after hearing it day after day, year after year, it wears you down," She takes a small sip, sighing as she glances off again, her eyes distant, "Without you even realizing it at first. And then, it just gets worse and more obvious. You start to believe that you are saying it wrong. You are doing it wrong, and, maybe you shouldn't be wearing this or that."

Her voice is low and light, so light that if a window was open, the wind would carry away her words before he could make them out. She swirls her glass, the goldish liquid sloshing around slowly as her vision zeros in on his wall. Anger bubbles underneath Ricks' skin as more of the picture falls into place. _What a fucking prick._ Before he starts to visualize him beating Mike to a pulp, he feels her dark eyes on him, so he snaps back to attention with her, "Truth or dare, Mr. Grimes?"

"Truth." He answers quietly, his eyes squarely on hers.

"Why me?" She asks earnestly, "I'm not-"

"You are," He cuts her off, answering her question before she can finish it, "You most certainly are." His eyes bounce back and forth between hers, willing her to believe him, "I wanted you because of these eyes, this nose," He runs his index finger along the bridge of her nose, causing her to scrunch it up slightly, "These lips," He leans in and kisses her quickly and she splashes a few giggles on his mouth. He taps her temple a few times, tilting his head as he smiles back at her, "And, this intriguing, quick mind. Which brings me to my next question. Truth or dare?"

She clicks her teeth a little, trying to hide her smile, "Truth, Sir."

"Tell me why you aren't a prosecutor anymore."

Her eyes widen a little as she stares back at him. Telling him about Mike is one thing, he was an asshole, that's easy, but this… she can't go there. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Rick watches as she struggles with herself, not really wanting to say, "I lost interest." She finally says, averting her eyes.

She sinks away from him, moving her knees so they aren't touching his anymore. She crosses her arms over her chest and bends over a little, suddenly becoming self-conscious in her play suit. Ricks' eyes shift along her body as the confident, giggly girl that was just sitting in front of him slips away. Something happened to her, something terrible that's way beyond a few words from some asshole. He wants to know. He wants to make it better, "What happened to you?" He whispers lowly, reaching for her.

She smiles sadly as her eyes cloud over with tears. She shakes her head quickly, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, "I just lost interest, that's all." She squeaks out as she blinks furiously, not wanting the tears to fall. She turns in her chair, facing his windows as she closes her eyes. Her skin heats up, just as it did on that hot summer day. _We're are so close to getting a conviction, Barba. I almost had him today. I almost got him to break. I'll push him hard tomorrow, I'll get him to spill his-_ The sound of the screeching tires of that black Mustang is something she will never forget. The screams of the pedestrians on the street with her are deafening, even to this day. The shattering of her phone as she dropped it to the pavement-

"Michonne?"

The sound of his voice pulls her back from that tragic day. She snaps her head toward him. Her eyes are dazed, as if she doesn't know where she is or how long she's been there. A single tear slips down her cheek as her breaths come short and choppy, "I'm sorry." She says, shaking her head. She wipes at the escaped tear, rubbing her fingers together to rid the moisture away, "I'm sorry, um,"

Rick stands and closes the distance between them, collecting her up in his arms before she can protest. She's embarrassed as all hell as he moves her silently through his lavish apartment. She closes her eyes tightly, exhaling quickly as she kicks herself. _Now he thinks you're crazy, awesome._ They're back in his bedroom. He sets her down on her feet softly, reaching around her neck to unclip her expensive outfit. It falls to her feet and he works on her thong next, dipping his fingers underneath the thin sides and pushing it down her hips. He takes her hand and leads her to his big bed, letting her get situated underneath his covers before he sheds out of his own clothing.

He climbs in next to her and reaches into his drawer before turning back to her quickly to throw her a look. She smiles at his antics, letting out another quick breath as she rolls onto her side to face him, holding out her hand expectantly. He presses a mini crunch bar into her palm before he rolls onto his back, undoing his own mini Mr. Good Bar. They eat their chocolate in silence, both staring up at the ceiling as they chew. Michonne turns her attention back on him, or, his chest rather, as it rises and falls in rhythm. Her eyes roam to his biceps and forearms and even under the moonlight, she can see the natural tan from the Atlanta sun. She pulls up the covers to cover her mouth but those big eyes of hers still wander over his exposed skin.

"Truth or dare?" She says quietly, finally bringing her eyes back up to his.

"Truth."

She bites her lip, "Let me preface this question because I know you are going to think this is about you know what." He groans loudly and she laughs a little, "I'm asking because the other night, after we, you know, you gave me a bath but then you got in the shower afterward."

"So, what's the question girl?"

"Is it a rule of yours? That we shower separately?"

Yes. It is. "No." He answers simply, mentally striking out yet another rule from his book, "I just didn't think about it at the time, that's all."

She sighs out of relief, "So, it's not because you're…"

He squints his eyes at her and she tries and fails to contain the smile spreading on her face. He grabs her wrist and pulls her into him, planting her hand dead center on his chest. She stretches her fingers along his smooth skin and nuzzles into his shoulder. He then drags her hand down to his stomach, only releasing her hand when her fingers reach his happy trail. She drags her fingers back up to his chest and then along his long arm. She details his biceps with her fingers, slowly, sending the information to her brain. She wants to remember him forever. She lets her hand wander all over him, up to his neck and jaw, then back down his chest and stomach, over his belly button and to that happy trail again.

Rick dips his eyes down on her as she explores, only getting a view of the top of her head. He then glances back up at the ceiling as he racks his brain searching for the last time he let someone touch him in quite this way. He's not adverse to it in any way, it's just, he's usually the one doing all of the touching. Michonne isn't the only one experiencing things for the first time this weekend. He wants to dig deeper into her past, especially after witnessing what happened in the kitchen. For a moment, she want's even with him anymore, like she had been transported back into her old life. Into that defining moment. He knew that she was running from something, Maggie had let on to as much but, this is bigger and more terrifying for her than he what he was initially thinking.

"Truth or dare?" She asks again, breaking his line of thought.

"Hey now," He starts, letting out a breath as his fingers begin to rub at her bare skin, "It's my turn."

"Do you have a question?" She tilts her head up toward him.

He thinks for a minute but can't come up with anything other than give me Mike's number so I can knock his teeth out, "Fresh out, it seems."

"Truth or dare then?"

"Truth." He smiles.

"Do you want to punish me for today?"

His eyes widen as his mouth drops open from surprise. She watches him intently, her eyes shifting over his features as he contemplates his answer, "Honestly? No, I don't. But I should, just to get my point across."

"You don't think I can handle it?"

"It's not that. Usually, the punishment happens immediately after the infraction and then we talk about it and it's over. I feel like we're good. You get it, I get it." He shrugs, "We're good." She's quiet for a while and he watches as those big eyes move around the room, "What is it?"

"I don't want you to take it easy on me. I want to do this right."

"We are doing it right." He laughs.

"Don't make excuses for me. Punish me."

"Oh my god," He chuckles again, covering his eyes with his large hand.

"Rick."

He uncovers his eyes and looks down at her. She stares back at him, her face and voice stern, "Michonne." He laughs again but she doesn't relent, "This is my job, okay? Don't get all stern with me missy." She still doesn't relent. She keeps her eyes steadily on his, never wavering, until he finally blinks and looks away, "This is a first for me. I have never been asked to willingly punish someone."

"I want the full experience. I fucked up and I'm willing to pay for it."

He shakes his head in disbelief but smirks back at her, "You are something else."

"So?"

He sighs, "Alright. I'll think of something Ms. Moreau."

She gleams at him, "Thank you Sir."

Rick laughs loudly and Michonne enjoys the rumble of his body against hers, "God, I thought I was the weird one! You are twisted, you know that?"

She shrugs defiantly, "At least I'm in good company."


	14. Chapter 14

**Hiya, sorry for the wait. I'm working on the playlist, so hopefully I'll get that posted to tumblr soon and, I'll have another outfit and some shoe porn added to the link of this update on tumblr as well. Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Fourteen.**

"Don't leave." Rick murmurs through kisses.

Michonne giggles against his lips as they stand at his elevator. Rick digs his hands into her hair as he draws her closer, flashing a smile against her mouth before he captures her lips once more. They both moan into each other as their lips smack loudly. She hasn't had this much fun making out since she was a teenager. Neither has he. They break apart after a few minutes and she beams up at him as she throws her arms over his shoulders. He doesn't want her to leave. He really doesn't but he's struggling to find a reason to keep her here.

"I'll buy you a puppy if you stay."

She throws her head back as she laughs, filling his silent apartment with pure sunshine, "Oh, stop."

"I mean it," He says through chuckles, "Stay here. I'll cut my meeting short."

"But you're all dressed up," She muses, tugging at his slim dark blue tie, "And I need to check on the store." She cocks her head to the side as he pokes out his bottom lip, "You want me to make Beth manager, right? So I can step back a little?"

"Yes."

"Okay then." She giggles.

Rick sighs, but doesn't revolt any longer. They both have to rejoin the real world, as much as he doesn't want to. Their first weekend together was nothing short of amazing. This little woman has breathed new life into him and he wants to stay high on her for as long as he can, "You'll be back tonight then."

Michonne notes that it isn't a question that he's posed, but a firm statement. She can't say that she wants to leave either and she wouldn't if she didn't have a store, plants in her apartment, and a nosey ass best friend. Her phone chimes in her hand and she rolls her eyes, not even wanting to check the incoming message, "Yes, I'll be back tonight."

"Good," Rick starts as his mischievous eyes bounce back and forth between hers, "I'll have your punishment all sorted by then. Six pm sharp, girl."

"Yes sir." She smiles. Her phone buzzes again and she lifts it over his shoulder to read her notification, "My Lyft is here."

Rick kisses her quickly and then releases her from his firm grip. He grabs her wrist and pulls her into the elevator, pressing the illuminated G to ease them back down into the world below. She leans into him, breathing in his expensive cologne, wanting to savor it while she can. As the doors slide open again, he links their fingers together loosely, pressing his thumb into her palm as they move toward the teal Ford Fusion waiting for her. Rick opens the back door for her but stops her short, grabbing her again to kiss her deeply. He cups her neck with his large hand, his long fingers stretching to the nape of her neck as he applies just a little bit of pressure. She mewls slightly as her body begins to tingle. She could jump him right here in broad daylight. There are enough bushes and trees to hide them; nobody (except the Lyft driver) would be the wiser.

He pulls away slowly, biting down on her bottom lip and dragging it back with him. He releases her finally and she smiles, biting her lip as her eyes open again. Two days with him. That's all that it took. She is completely, utterly, undeniably, hooked. And she couldn't be happier. "Have a good day Sir." She says sweetly, smirking at him through her dark eyelashes.

"Thank you. Same to you. Six pm."

"Not a minute late, Sir."

She turns to get into the car and jolts forward from the slap on her behind that Rick gifts her. She cuts her eyes back toward him, but wiggles a little before she climbs into her awaiting chariot. She wags her fingers at him one last time before the Fusion pulls away from the curb. She turns in her seat to watch him as she's whisked into the Atlanta traffic. Once he's disappeared back into his parking garage, she turns back in her seat and takes a deep breath for what feels like the first time since Friday night. She recounts their intense weekend in intimate detail, her body tightening as she replays their first time and her first, real, orgasm. She shifts in her seat, crossing her legs tightly as her body starts to react. Fuck, he's not even here and he's getting her all worked up. Her phone chimes again and she flips it face up, hoping that it's Rick. She sighs loudly when it indeed is not her Dominant, but said nosey ass best friend.

 **Thirteen text messages. Thirteen. I have yet to hear from you bitch.**

 **You are so dramatic.**

 **You're alive! How kind of you to bestow your presence upon me!**

 **Shut up.**

 **Can we have lunch? Or do I need to call Rick to see if I can get penciled in?**

 **Oh my god! Just meet me at the store in 10.**

She shakes her head, laughing slightly to herself as she drops the phone into her lap. Can it just be six o'clock already? Her driver gets her to Flashpoint in record time and Michonne slides her sun glasses to the top of her head as she enters her establishment. It's a beautiful, sunny, Monday morning in Atlanta, so of course, all of the nerds are tucked away in her little piece of heaven. She's fairly crowded for eight am, but she's seen worse and it's nothing that the smiling Beth can't handle.

"My god." The young blonde calls, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches her boss come toward her.

"What?" Michonne smiles back as she heads to the long bar, plopping down in one of the bar stools.

"You look brand new." Michonne scoffs, clicking her teeth, "I mean it! You look so refreshed!"

Michonne smiles again widely, "Well thank you."

"So, I take it your weekend with this new boy was good?"

Michonne nods, trying to not think too hard about it. She likes this pair of underwear. There's no need to ruin them after just one wear, "It was…" She trails off, trying to find an appropriate word.

"Intense?"

"To say the least." Michonne giggles, "You've been okay?"

"Totally!" Beth beams, "I told you, I got it. Between Noah needing the money and getting Carl back, we were fine."

"The new comics came in?"

"They sure did, right on time. They're already in the inventory system and I've replenished the shelves. Also, this new guy, um," She digs around the cash register for a second before she pulls out a business card, "Robert Kirkman came by. He wants to see if you'll carry his comics."

Michonne takes the card, eyeing it as she flips it over in between her fingers, "Did he mention what it was about?"

"Something about zombies, I think. He called them something else though, biters, or roamers or… walkers, that's it, walkers. It's based here in Atlanta."

"Right on. I'll give him a call." She eyes the counter behind Beth, noting the freshly stocked coffee beans and whip cream bottles, "The coffee came in too?" Beth nods, her blonde ponytail bouncing with her, "When is Carl coming back in? I haven't seen him in ages, it feels like."

"I'm not sure. He asked me when he could come back but I told him that I'm not the one that makes the schedule so…" She tilts her head and bats her wide, blue eyes dramatically at her smirking boss.

"Well, go ahead and give him a call. Tell him you'll get him on the schedule asap."

"Really?"

Michonne nods, "Yeah, I mean, that's what store managers do, right? They make the schedule."

Beth screeches loudly, alerting the entire shop to her sudden, but well deserved promotion. All eyes are on her as she bounces up and down, clapping her hands before she leans over to bar to hug Michonne tightly, "Oh god, alright, alright!" Michonne laughs, hugging the girl back, "You've earned it."

"Thank you so much! You won't regret this, I swear!"

"I know I won't. I trust you completely. Listen, we'll talk money and all that other stuff in a couple days okay? I gotta get the paperwork together."

"Sure, sure, sure! I actually have an idea I wanted to talk to you about but it can wait."

"No, no, go ahead. I've got time. Knowing Maggie, I'll be waiting for her ass until noon."

"Okay so," She dips below the counter again and pulls out a sketch book, "Noah and I were talking Saturday and we both think that an open mic night would blow this place up big time." She slides the book toward Michonne, "Noah drew out a new layout for the shop so we could set up a stage in the corner over there. We were thinking either Friday or Saturday night and we can get anyone from poets, to solo singers, to bands. We could even host Q and A's with comic book writers and artists or do little workshops maybe for people interested in getting in the field."

"Wow," Michonne lets out, "I like it, I do. That's a great idea."

"Right? I mean, we'd have to do some construction to get the stage built and add some acoustics, but it'll pay for itself within the year. But now that you and Noah have connections to the construction world, it should be a breeze."

"Woah, one step at a time." Michonne laughs, "But I do love the idea. I'll mull it over, manager."

Beth squeals again. Both women chat for a bit longer and then split to get back to work. Michonne goes over the weekend receipts and starts working on a Beth's paperwork, while the young blonde busies herself with their patrons. A few hours pass and Michonne is back behind the bar, sipping on a hot chocolate as she flips through a furniture magazine. She glances down at her phone just as the clock flips over to twelve pm. Right on cue, as if she were summoned from hell, Maggie throws open the front door and saunters inside.

"It's been four hours Maggie." Michonne tosses toward the southern belle, dropping her magazine to the bar.

"Well, it's been about sixty hours since I've seen or heard from you, what's four more?"

Michonne rolls her eyes and shakes her head but can't help but smirk at the brunette. Her short hair is simple today, slicked back with just a little volume to it. Her make up is dark, a black smokey eye paired with a contoured nose and matte marron lipstick. Her flower printed romper is muted with dull golds and pinks and browns, but the deep V neck accentuating her cleavage draws more of your attention than anything. She hooks her sunglasses into the V of her silk outfit and leans over the bar and into Michonne's face, that shit eating grin showing off her pretty white teeth.

"Well don't you look brand new." She coos, cocking her head to the side as she looks her dear old friend up and down.

"I said the same thing!" Beth chimes in.

Michonne cuts her eyes toward Beth quickly before laying her eyes on Maggie once more, "Your point is?"

"Sex has done you some good."

Michonne swats at her shoulder, her eyes widening, "Will you keep your voice down! My god!"

Maggie scoffs and rolls her pretty green eyes, "All that dick and you still trippin'. Beth, she and I are leaving."

"Fine by me." Beth shrugs, smiling brightly at the pair.

"Let's go loosey goosey." Maggie beckons at Michonne, already heading toward the front door.

"You know what?" Michonne threatens as she scoffs, "I don't know why we're friends."

She grabs her clutch and moves after her friend, replacing her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose as she's assaulted by the midday sun once more. The two women head down the street, side by side, their hips and arms bumping against one another's as they start their afternoon, "I like this outfit, gurrrl." Maggie clicks her tongue, picking a little at Michonne's white crop top and tight black cut off shorts. Her flat stomach, belly button, and long legs on full display, "Mmm hmm, dick does that body good."

"Stop it!" Michonne chortles, "You are so vulgar!"

Maggie slings her arm over Michonne's shoulder, pulling her friend into her a little as they share a laugh, "You do look good, I mean it."

Michonne shrugs but wraps her arm around Maggie's waist as they continue their stroll through the city. They stop for a quick lunch, eating their grilled chicken Caesar salad pitas as they walk toward Roche Bobois, Atlanta's most exclusive furniture store. Michonne can smell the money as they walk inside and are instantly offered glasses of champagne.

"Why are we here?" Michonne asks, sipping the bubbly alcohol as her eyes slide around the multilevel store.

"I need a new bed for my play room. Fucking Negan is bitching and complaining that the mattress hurts his back." She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling again, "He is such a bitch, I swear."

Michonne laughs as she glances around, "How's Daryl?"

"He is so good. He has been an absolute dream. He's open for any and everything and he's a quick learner. That boy, is going places, let me to tell you." They stop at the bed displays and start weaving in and out of them as Maggie looks them over, "But enough about me. How was your weekend, miss thang? Oooh, lookie here."

They stop at the Courchevel bed and both immediately plop down on it, rolling over onto their backs to stare at the ceiling, "It was…" Michonne sighs, racking her brain for the right word, "Consuming? Does that make sense?"

"Yes ma'me. It sure does." Maggie smiles, tapping Michonne's hand with hers.

Michonne can't help but smile, "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"No you didn't!" Maggie loud laugh filling the store, "It was that good?"

"Maggie," Michonne starts, placing her hand to her heart, "I wanted to crawl out of my skin, do you hear me? Do you hear me? I could feel him in my ribs, bitch." Maggie wiggles her body as she continues to laugh, "I'm surprised I can walk today. Seriously."

"Is it big, girl?"

Michonne groans happily, "Eight, easy. Easy!"

Maggie rolls over onto her side, propping her head up with her fist as she raises her free hand in the air. Michonne gives her a high five as they both continue to giggle, "So, your first weekend was a success?"

"Completely and utterly, yes." Michonne rolls her head toward the slightly younger brunette, "By the way, why were you being mean to him Friday night?"

"What?" Maggie screws up her face in confusion as her octave raises a bit.

"I heard you mumbling under your breath and shit, don't try and play me."

"You didn't hear shit, quit lying." Maggie clicks her tongue again, causing Michonne to laugh louder, "He was nice to you, though?"

"Did you not hear what I said? I was crawling up the wall like the exorcist!"

"Not like that! I mean, he was easy with you? He had patience?" She asks seriously and Michonne takes note, sitting up and crossing her legs Indian style.

"Totally. I even had a little freak out yesterday and he didn't even punish me." She watches Maggie as she keeps her eyes steady, blinking slowly as her wheels turn, "What Mags?"

The green-eyed beauty blinks slowly again but the corner of her lips turn up slightly, "I dunno. I'm proud but I'm sad, but I'm happy for you, you know?"

"Sad?" Michonne asks quietly, cocking her head to the side a little as her locs dangle freely.

Maggie shrugs, "I'm not jealous, okay? Let's get that shit out of the way right now. I didn't think you'd actually go for this and so fast. I guess in my haste to get you back out into the world, I kinda didn't realize that you'd be back out in the world." She sighs a little, rolling her eyes at herself, "I like protecting you and, I guess it's been a little harder for me to let you go that I thought it would be." She laughs, "I just don't want you to hurt anymore, that's all, and if he hurts you, it's my fault because I pushed it."

"Maggie," Michonne coos, smiling down on her, "I love you."

"I love you. And I made sure Rick knows that, that's why I've been hard on him. I didn't want him to have my blessing right off the bat and give him a reason to act up."

"Well, he was a perfect gentleman, except when he wasn't." Michonne beams.

"Don't let him push you into anything that you aren't ready for. Remember, you hold all the power. He might be doing the controlling, but he don't have shit without your say so." Maggie points at her, "But, you may have learned that already if you've escaped a punishment."

Michonne glances off slightly before focusing on her friend again, "I didn't escape it completely. I mean, he wanted to let it go but I told him that I want the full experience. If I mess up, I want to know about it and I want him to act accordingly."

Maggie's mouth falls open, "You _asked_ for a punishment?"

Michonne nods, her eyes wide, "Why are ya'll acting like I'm crazy or something?"

"Because you are!"

"I'm trying to learn!"

Maggie shakes her head, pursing her lips, "He's turned you into a freak already."

Michonne leans forward, laughing again as she claps, "Give me some pointers! I gotta go back over there tonight at six."

"Well, from what I know, Rick isn't into humiliation or corporal punishment, unlike myself. Just focus on your breathing and for the love of the lord Michonne, don't back talk him or disobey him in any way. His demeanor will be completely different while he's punishing you. He's trying to get a point across, this isn't for shits and giggles."

"Oh shit," Michonne half giggles, "Like, different how?"

Maggie shrugs, "Just different. Authoritative, strict, dominating. You crossed a line and he has to correct you. As a sub, you have to know the difference between what's okay, and what's not, when something is appropriate and when it's not. This is kind of fucked up but you're like a puppy. You peed in your cage and he has to break you of that. You can't break a habit with cuddles and cookies."

Michonne swallows a little hard. Butterflies start to flitter around her stomach as Maggie continues to talk and she curses herself for being such a fucking overachiever. _I want you to punish me Rick, I want to do this right._ Shit. What has she gotten herself into? The girls spend the rest of the afternoon furniture shopping. Maggie not only buys a new bed for her play room, but one for her personal bedroom along with a living room set. Michonne takes a Lyft home and showers before changing into a fresh set of clothes. Her stomach has been in knots all afternoon but it's honestly from a mixture of things.

She's excited to see him. It's only been what? Nine hours? But it feels like it's been a month. She's anxious, a little scared, but _ready_. Ready for this new element to be introduced, ready to feel him again, ready for that all too familiar quake. Her phone chimes as she pulls her locs into a loose bun on the top of her head, letting some fall loose to her shoulders.

 **Parking level 5. Elevator code 9482. Don't be late.**

Michonne swallows. His text even sounds terse. Her body tightens suddenly, her nipples sprouting underneath her lace bra. A cold shiver runs through her at the thought of him stewing all day, trying to harness his anger as he mulled over his punishment for her. Her curiosity wanted to research some popular punishment techniques but she resisted, not wanting to taint the experience for herself or make him angry for not being patient. She checks the time quickly, seven past five. She stands and slips her phone into her pocket, grabbing her keys before she heads for the front door. What? She could get caught in traffic.

She pulls her Lexus in between his BMW and Jaguar. She glances down at the dash as the time changes over to five thirty-two pm. She knows Rick highly values promptness but maybe she'll score a couple points for being early. She jumps out and locks her pride and joy, the horn bouncing off of the walls loudly as she moves toward the elevator. She punches in his code, then hits the round thirty two and she's being thrust into the high rise once more. The doors slide open and she steps into his apartment tentatively, listening for him, but she hears nothing. She moves inside a little further, glancing around for any life.

She wanders through his spread, starting with the kitchen, and then moving into his office, his work out room, his study, and then to his bedroom and bathroom. She pulls out her phone as she moves down the hallway and pushes her way into his playroom. She notices her outfit, complete with a pair of Christian Louboutin heels displayed in the middle of the neatly made bed. She sits on the edge of the bed, her fingers tapping along the glass screen.

 **I'm here**

 **Pardon my tardiness. I'll be there shortly. Please change and be by the door.**

 **Text me when you're ready.**

Michonne tosses her phone to the bed and begins to disrobe. She slips into the Saffi body suit and notes how well it clings to her body. She smooths her hands along the pink and black vertical panels and she does a half turn, feeling sexy. She then grabs her shoes, picking up her right foot to slide into her Lady Peep red bottoms. She picks up her phone again and heads for the door, kneeling onto her knees and assuming her position.

 **I'm ready Sir**

Rick reads the incoming message and smirks as he returns his attention to his computer screen. He taps at his keyboard for a few minutes before lifting his eyes to the commotion just outside his door. Most of his staff leaves for the night, Tara and Rosita waving as they pass by his door. He throws them a quick nod before he returns to his email, sending it before he turns his attention back to his phone. He hopes she's ready. She is in for a long night.

 **Set your phone up against the wall, facing you. I'm going to facetime you. Don't say a word. Don't move from your position.**

Michonne furrows her eye brows a little but follows his instructions. She waits for her phone to ring, her chest rising and falling a little harder than before. Her phone begins to ring and she jumps to answer it, accepting his facetime before she rests her hands on her thighs. Rick's face illuminates her screen and he's smirking at her already.

"You look beautiful, Ms. Moreau."

She almost answers him but catches herself and closes her mouth quickly. She recounts Maggie's words and focuses in on her breathing, all while keeping her eyes steady on him. Rick catches her slip but he smiles wider, ready to get this punishment underway, "Very good, Michonne. I'm running a little behind schedule here, I'm going to be a little while longer. I don't want you to move, I don't want you to speak, I don't want you to breathe any harder than you are now. If you have to move, cough, scratch, yawn, you ask for permission, understand?" Michonne tilts her head, her eyes questioning him, "Just raise your hand and wait until I engage you."

She nods slowly. Let the games begin, "I want you to lean forward, outstretch your arms with your palms flat on the floor. I want your forehead and nose touching the ground. Like the child's pose, if you're familiar with yoga." Michonne wastes no time. She assumes her new position, pressing her fingertips against one another as she creates a triangle effect, "Good girl."

Rick really isn't doing anything of importance. He could have left hours ago honestly. But he continues to tap away at the desk, closing out of his email and bringing up Expedia to continue to search for his next vacation spot. He flicks his eyes toward his phone quickly, watching as her back rises and falls with a steady rhythm, showing off her toned shoulders. He returns his attention to his computer, loosing himself in the white sandy shores of Saint Barthelemy. An hour passes. Rick rubs his chin as he gazes at a hut along the waters of Fiji. He's never been to Fiji. Looks nice. He tosses his eyes toward the clock hanging on his wall before glancing back down at his phone.

She hasn't even so much as flinched. Her breaths are still calm and steady, her forehead and nose pressed into the ground as her arms stay elongated past her head. She's doing great for a newbie, he'll give her that. He watches her for a few minutes, making sure that she is indeed following his instructions to the T, but a ding on his computer draws his attention away. An email from Maggie slides into his inbox and he's quick to open it.

 _Michonne was giggling like a school girl after being fingered for the first time by the captain of the football team and that's because of you. You're off the hook. Be easy on her tonight asshole. - M_

Rick smiles in response. _Awww, she spoke about me._ That makes him happy. But, not happy enough to suspend this punishment. She asked for it, so she's going to get it. He returns his eyes to his computer and continues to pretend to be working. Another hour passes. Every muscle in Michonne's body aches. They are literally burning as she struggles not to move or roll her shoulders. She wants to raise her hand to ask permission to sit up, just for a minute. But she doesn't. She won't because not only did she ask for this, she's stubborn as all hell.

Hour three ticks by. Rick smirks at his phone as he watches her. She's one tough chick. He's proud of her. But he certainly isn't finished with her yet. He shuts down his Mac, ultimately deciding on a hut in Fiji than a hotel room in Saint Barthelemy. He then shuts his laptop and stands from his glass desk, deciding to move on to part two of their evening. He grabs his keys and phone and makes his way through his quiet building, whistling happily to himself as he begins his trek home.

Michonne is pissed beyond belief. She's not even sure how much time has passed but she's about to say fuck it all and storm the fuck out. _Don't be late, six o clock sharp Ms. Moreau_. Asshole. Her body is scorching hot now, not just from the pain of her now tight muscles but with anger. If this is some twisted part of his punishment, then fuck him. If it's not, and he really did keep her waiting this long, then double fuck him. She was tangled up like a pretzel all damn day thinking about this punishment and this is what she gets? Fucking really?

 _God, maybe I am too hot headed for this shit_ , she ponders. Her mother always chastised her for the flash of anger that could consume her without a moment's notice. She was her father's child, that was for sure. She finally hears his footsteps and the elevator doors sliding shut and she closes her eyes for a long second, trying to harness the attitude that is scraping at the back of her throat, just itching to be freed upon him. Her eyes spring open quickly as the door opens and he steps inside. The door closes with a soft click and Michonne bites the inside of her cheek as anger vibrates through her body.

"Stand."

Michonne leans up onto her hunches, taking a second for herself as she stares at the opposite wall. Rick holds out his hand to help her up, but she refuses and stands on her own, also resisting the urge to stretch out her aching limbs. A sly grin spreads on Rick's lips as he looks over the scowl on her face. She's pissed _off_ ; but he loves it.

"Sorry I'm late, lost track of time." He coos, almost soothingly, his voice as smooth as silk.

She doesn't respond. She just links her dark eyes with his, as he has finally engaged her. Her mouth twitches slightly as she chews on her tongue, causing Rick to cock his head to the side a little. "You have something to say, Ms. Moreau?" He teases her with another grin that only captures one side of his mouth. She doesn't answer or nod, she just stares back at him with a ferocious, burning glare. He tilts her head up quickly with the knuckle of his index finger, looking down his down at her, "Answer me."

His voice is low and stern as his eyes narrow in on her and her body reacts to it instantly. Despite her anger, her nipples harden once more as she becomes acutely aware of the lace against her now sensitive skin. He so sexy standing there in front of her, his brilliant eyes a light shade of blue, his hard body covered by his dark blue fitted suit, "No Sir."

Rick squints his eyes as his head tilts again. Shit. Her _no Sir_ came out dripping with sarcasm and attitude and Mr. observant caught it immediately, "Do you have a problem?"

"No Sir." She answers quickly and strongly as her breath begins to rush, her chest rising harder and harder as the seconds pass.

"No? It certainly sounds like you haven't lost that little attitude from yesterday to me."

She rolls her eyes but inhales sharply as she catches her indiscretion, "Sir, I'm-"

"Not a word." He snaps angrily.

She watches as his eyes turn from their usual bright blue to a darker shade and she swallows harshly. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He grabs her wrist and pulls her further into the room at a brisk pace. He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls her down across his lap. The air leaves her body with a quick rush as she catches herself with her hands. Rick rubs her behind with his large hand, squeezing her supple flesh before he lifts his hand and spanks her, watching her ass jiggle from the aftermath. Michonne gasps loudly, lurching forward from his lash, her skin stinging.

"I can't hear you." He goads, lifting his hand once more to bring it down to her mahogany skin again.

"Fuck, two!" Michonne bellows.

She drops her head as he spanks her a third time and bites down on her lip to muffle the squeal, "Oh god daddy," She projects loudly, ecstasy rushing through her veins. She feels like a heroin addict getting their first good high. She's was a little scared at first but as the drug spreads through her, her body warms and tingles in the most delectable way. Her sex begins to drip as his deft fingers slide along her, slithering between her cheeks before dipping to her front, running across the folds of her seductively. He adds a little pressure, pressing into her clit through the lace of her body suit, feeling her silky juices seeping through the material.

He spanks her again and she presses her chin into his leg, squeezing her eyes shut as her head begins to swim, "Four daddy."

Rick hums lowly at the sound of her words. _Daddy_. Hearing it slip from her throat with such ease turns him on something fierce. Michonne feels his erection against her stomach and she wiggles a little, throwing her head back up as she rolls her shoulders. He spanks her for the fifth time and she can't help the smile and giggle that bubbles up inside of her. She bites her bottom lip and groans seductively through her smile, "Ooh, five daddy."

Rick spreads his hands on her ass, squeezing and jiggling her ample flesh as his own breathing quickens. He was going to go to ten but he doesn't think _he_ could stand it. Hearing her squeal, watching her writhe beneath him, her heavy body pressing against his now rock hard cock is all too much. He wants to bend her over the edge of this bed and fuck her until she is quoting scripture but this isn't about that. She wanted a punishment. She's going to get one. He pulls her up quickly, settling her down on her knees beside him. Her ragged breath matching his as her face flushes slightly, her cheeks hot as the bun sitting on the top of her head begins to loosen and locs fall around her.

She watches him carefully as she splays her hands along her thighs. Her eyes drop to his lap and his hard dick as it pushes against his boxers and pants, creating a large bulge. He stands and readjusts his jacket over her shoulders a little before he walks toward his chest of draws. He pulls open a drawer and grabs something small, before tapping the drawer lightly to slide it back in place. He turns back and moves toward her, his expensive loafers clicking against the hardwood floor.

"Lay back on the bed."

She does as she's instructed, climbing up onto the California king and laying on her back. Rick kneels at the edge of the bed and pulls on her legs until her crotch is right in his face. He leans down, her knees right at his ears and he takes a whiff of her, biting his bottom lip as he smiles widely at her. He runs his hands down her calves and then back up to her bent knees and thighs, loving the feel of her skin against his hands. He kisses her through her lace body suit quickly and licks his lips as her natural lubricant splashes against his mouth.

"These," He says quietly, leaning back and showing her two gold balls, "Are Luna beads. They're twenty karat gold, weighted, vibrating beads. I'm going to insert them into you, and you're going to make me dinner and watch me eat. Understand?"

"Yes Sir." She swallows as she nods.

Rick pushes the soft material away from her lower half, holding it to the side by her thigh to reveal her soaking apex. She looks good enough to eat and smells even better. He uses his long fingers to stroke her gently, coating his fingers with her juices before he spreads her open and pushes the first vibrating bead inside of her. She gasps a little, tensing as the unfamiliar sensation washes over her and the bead settles into place. He deposits the second one and releases her after a few more strokes, holds out his hand to help her back to her feet. They stand millimeters from one another as he gazes down on her and she shifts on her feet a little, closing her eyes as she adjusts to the heavy beads inside of her.

It's a dull vibration, bordering on uncomfortable as she stands but she understands the use of them. After an hour or two, she could be pushed to orgasm if she had some external stimulation. He grabs her by the wrist and they're off toward the kitchen, the heavy balls pulling down on her insides as they move with her every step. Dinner is certainly going to be interesting.

Rick lets her loose in the kitchen and grabs a Stella Artois for himself before he saunters into his living room. Michonne lets out a deep breath and begins moving around his kitchen, already familiar from the night before. She stops from time to time as her body flexes and tightens from the vibrating gold beads inside of her. She literally has to close her eyes and center herself because… _damn_. The pit of her stomach bottoms out every so often as a sweet yet uncomfortable wave of electricity flashes through her. Her hands and limbs begin to shake ever so lightly from the constant barrage of vibration that radiates through her.

She drops the pair of stainless steel tongs she's using to flip his steak with a loud clang. Rick turns his head slightly, before chuckling to himself and taking another swig of his golden liquid. He's enjoying this a little too much. Michonne closes her eyes again, letting out another breath as she curses, "Shit." She bends over but shoots back up into a rigid stance, having to lean against the counter. _Holy hell._ She drops slowly, straight down, still using the counter to balance herself between the six-inch heels on her feel and the beads rumbling around her insides. She retrieves the tongs and stands slowly, returning to her duty.

About a half an hour later, she plates his steak, baby red potatoes, and asparagus and slides it up on the bar. She, _delicately_ , reaches over to place his fork and knife on either side of his plate, noting the vibrations strengthening as she stretches out. She moves out from the kitchen and stalks toward him, kneeling at his feet to alert him that his dinner is ready. He grabs her hand and pulls her back into the kitchen and instructs her to fetch him another beer. She does so promptly and goes to sit next to him. He wags his finger at her, shaking his head, before he points toward the ground, "Kneel. Head down."

She eyes him with large eyes for a minute but sinks down on her knees, remembering Maggie's words from earlier in the day. She moves down to her hunches, placing her palms flat on her thighs before she drops her head. This doesn't feel good. Her mind wanders back to her reading. Punishments aren't for pleasure, that's the point of it all. She won't back talk him again, that's for sure after this. She waits for him to finish his meal, listening to his knife and fork sliding against the plate as her own stomach rumbles. She hasn't eaten since lunch time but she wouldn't dare ask for something to eat. She just wants this to be over.

Rick glances down on her every now and again, watching as she shifts to readjust the beads. She squeezes her thighs together and constricts the walls of her sex around them, causing the rumble to intensify within her. She lets out a soft breath, closing her eyes as she shifts. She bites her lip as she moves again, finding a nice rhythm with the pulsating weights. She hums slightly and lets another breath slide through her teeth. _Mmm_. Rick glances down at her, catching her trying to cop a feel and find some release. She squeezes deeply again, sitting up a little straighter. Her face contorts as she finds that sweet spot. She hums again; a slight moan escaping her lips.

He lets her ride it out for a few minutes, letting her work herself up. She rolls her hips to an internal beat as she drops her head some before tilting it slightly. Her mouth falls open as her hips gyrate and she licks her teeth. S _hit_. She grunts suddenly as she flexes involuntarily and Rick knows the beads have finally found that perfect space within her. He waits a while longer as she grinds into it and begins to build her long-awaited release. Her nipples harden against the lace of her body suit. Her thighs quiver every now and again, her heart bouncing against her chest with ferocity.

She rolls her head back on her neck and another sugary whimper escapes her. She is so ready. Rick waits until her octave begins to rise, until she begins breathing harder and faster, until she's practically writhing against herself to release it. The waters break through her internal damn and rushes from the bottom of her feet, climbing faster and faster as she coaxes her orgasm, "Oh, shit." She lets out in an airy breath.

"That's enough." Michonne's eyes spring open, searching his wildly. She was so close she could taste it! _No, no, no no_! "Take them out please."

She lets out a defeated, disappointed breath as she stares back at him. He widens his eyes at her, waiting. She closes her eyes tightly and lets out another breath. Fuck! She pushes her body suit away and plucks the beads from her body one by one. She's hollow. She feels her orgasm recede back into the depths of her but she's still tingly and tight all over. The slightest touch from him or herself, or hell, a strong gust of wind could push her right over the edge.

"Do you know what this is?" He asks coyly.

She nods, "Orgasm denial." She breathes heavily.

"Do you know why you're being punished?"

"Yes Sir."

"Tell me."

"Because I mouthed off." She relays.

"And?"

"I made a scene," She breathes, "At the store."

"Will you do that again?"

She shakes her head, "No Sir."

"Good girl. Now, I need you wash my plate and then we're going to head to bed, okay?"

He holds out his hand for her and she takes it, standing back up on her now shaky legs. He allows her to steady herself before he releases her. He keeps his eyes on her as she washes his plate and silverware by hand, drying them slowly with the dark blue towel and replacing them back into the cupboards. He takes her by the hand once she's finished and leads her upstairs, stopping short at the first bedroom on the left. He opens the door and lets her walk in ahead of him, flipping on the light for her.

"There's a t-shirt and some boxers in the top drawer there for you to sleep in." He starts, "Sleep tight, Ms. Moreau."

She spins around to face him, her mouth opening to ask him why, but she closes it quickly, minding his rules. Her eyes are big as he moves to her, cupping her face with his hands. He wants to kiss her, so bad. Those plump lips nearly calling his name. But he can't. He won't. She can't enjoy this. And neither can he. He searches her eyes with his as he watches her. He doesn't want to spend a night without her beside him but, "You wanted this. Remember that." He whispers.

She nods sadly, dropping her eyes as he leaves her, closing the door behind him. She listens as he retreats into his own room and she sighs loudly when she hears his door shut with a click. She rolls her eyes but begins shrugging out of her lingerie. She doesn't even bother to shower, she just pulls the crisp, white t-shirt over her head and shrugs into the black boxers. She falls into the bed, her body heavy and wound up as tight as she can ever remember. She could touch herself, relieve some of the stress ailing her right now, but she knows that he'd know somehow and she resists. Instead, she just curls into a little ball and turns on the TV, landing on the Impractical Jokers to try and distract herself for the night.

Sleep doesn't come right away. She stares at the television but she has no idea what is unfolding in the episode. She rolls over on her side eventually, but tosses and turns for hours. She drifts into a restless sleep for maybe an hour at a time but then she's awake again, her mind wandering. She glances at the clock on the night stand, two twelve am. She is such an ass sometimes. Who asks for a fucking punishment? Who? Michonne Jekesai Moreau, that's who. She could be curled up in his arms, thoroughly sated and satisfied and in the middle of a very peaceful slumber. But no, here she is, in the middle of night, alone, horny as hell, hungry, and exhausted. Great.

She rolls over onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, splaying her hand on her stomach as she breathes calmly. That was brutal. Enough to make her certain that she will toe the line with him from now on to ensure that she never has to endure that shit again. But, at least it's over, and if he's a good Dominant, which she knows he is, that'll be the end of it. One of the many rules of punishment is once it's over, it's over. No lingering after effects and no mention of the transgression again from either party. She has to give it to him; that punishment was both swift _and_ effective.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hiya! Head over to my tumblr to find some more pics of Michonne's outfit, a link to the official playlist (took me long enough!) for The Art of Control, and, I made a little graphic/book cover. Yay me!**

 **Also, I just wanna address a little _something, something._ I got a review asking if I did/do any research for this story because chapter fourteen rubbed them the wrong way. The short answer, is yes, I do. Every place that I've mentioned, from Rick's apartment, to the restaurant they first went to, to the toys they use, to the clothing stores they've visited, are all real places in/around Atlanta. The books that Maggie gave Michonne for research, were all real and can be found on Amazon. The only made up store, is of course, Michonne's comic book store.**

 **I also research all of the BDSM I portray in this story, and yes, that includes the punishment in chapter fourteen. Every aspect that I used, him making her pose, him spanking her, him making her cook dinner and watch him eat, him slightly scolding her, and him sending her to another room, I found through various articles and websites written by and for members of the BDSM community. Remember the short answer I had above? Well, here's the long one. Here are some excerpts from an article I found about punishments from a real Dominant to answer some questions that I received about last chapter. Now, this Dominant refers to his sub as a "slave", please know that I will never refer to Michonne as a slave. Never, ever, ever, ever! That's not a word in Rick's vocabulary. Here are some of the excerpts:  
**

 **|| S** **lave punishment focuses on bad behavior, intentional or not:** Because behavioral modification is significant; punishment can be administered to the slave even if the bad behavior is unintentional. However, the method and severity of punishment depends on the bad behavior and if it was intentional or unintentional.

 **Punishment of a slave** aims to improve the slave's behavior or remove completely bad behavior. The slave may not like the consequences that her Master applies, but she accepts them because they apply to her and are for her betterment. Punishment is NOT role play. It is to correct a real problem using real punishment.

 **UNDERSTAND :** A slave must agree to accept punishment during training and grant her trainer the authority to punish her. It is not forced abuse. she gives informed consent to punishment for the purpose of helping to correct her behavior. It will not work in the long-run if not agreed to by both parties. The objective of punishment is not to cause physical harm or be a way of taking out anger against the slave but to correct behavior. **  
**

 **Slave Punishment for bad behavior does not always involve corporal punishment.** Punishment is anything administered by the Master that is very uncomfortable to the slave for the purpose of changing behavior. It could be having the slave stand in the closet, go to bed early, restriction of privileges, ignoring her, caging, bondage, refusing to allow her to serve you for a period of time or many other forms. _ **Example: (ping pong ball and egg timer) a ping pong ball can be used for both discipline and punishment, depending on how applied. A slave can be told to hold a ping pong ball to a wall with her nose for a period of time. She can be placed in various positions then the Master starts an egg timer and the slave must remain in that position until the egg timer alarms. She is then given a second position to hold, and the egg timer is reset. This can go as long as you wish; you can keep setting the timer and giving her new positions. Challenging positions can be used for punishment. Let your imagination be your guide. Many egg timers can be set for 30 minutes or more if you wish to make her hold a position that long.**_

Punishing a slave can be the taking away of privileges; loss of the use of a computer, car, or television.

Formal slave punishment is used there is a far more serious violations of the rules. It's not a result of a change in a habit but a conscious misbehavior or a misbehavior that a reasonable slave would be expected to know.

Examples are the intentional failure to disclose important information to her Master or failure to do a particular assignment in the allotted time (after receiving instructions). These are attitude problems that cause bad behaviors. This is also an example where a slave's sorrow for displeasing her Master may not be enough to correct behavior. She was aware of her Master's instructions and still failed to obey. She had full knowledge ahead of time that her Master would be displeased, and punishment was likely.

Very often, stating that slave punishment is a logical consequence of bad behavior is an over simplification of the problem. Yes, what the Master sees is bad behavior, but more than likely the bad behavior is a result of incorrect (faulty) thinking, failure to pay attention to detail or other mental lapses. We think, then we feel, then we act. In other words, it's her thinking (attitude) that caused bad behavior. Therefore, only applying corporal punishment is not always the best action that a Master can take to correct the problem.

Examining and confronting the faulty thinking, before punishment, is an important part of the overall correction of behavior. If faulty thinking is addressed and corrected, behavior will automatically be changed. (Details on addressing faulty thinking are discussed in other sections of this website.)

 **Steps in Formal Punishment of a slave:**

In most cases, formal corporal slave punishment should have several steps.

Step 1: After discovering the behavior that needs correcting, it's often advisable to discuss with the slave what caused her bad behavior. What was she thinking? Why did she act that way? Why did she make that choice? How is the choice she made helpful in her slave training? Is she serious about her training?

The lecture/ discussion/scolding is an important phase of punishment. Make your point. Get admissions of guilt.

SHOWING AN ATTITUDE DURING SCOLDING OR LECTURE: The image above is an example when additional actions may be needed just because of her attitude before punishment. . Don't allow her to take this rebellious stance or a stance of ignoring you when you are scolding or lecturing her before punishment. Watch her body actions. Demand attention and submission. The woman is showing rebellion not acceptance of her bad behavior. Scolding her has a purpose and you decide the purpose, not her. This woman in the picture indicates a disagreement with your scolding of her. I would approach this behavior directly and challenge it. If she is punished while displaying this attitude it would more then likely be ineffective because she has not accepted she was wrong or your authority to make the correction. Deal with it.

In my opinion, punishment for this behavior could be added to increase her overall punishment or you could do a separate punishment before getting to the purpose of the scolding.. Attitude adjustment and proper behavior are both part of correction. What are you accomplishing if you let her resist you in this way. It is still resistance and intended for you to see it as resistance.

In the lecture or scolding, the Master controls the conversation. You direct it to her behavior and what was wrong and why she is being punished. You make her answer questions. Make her think about why you are upset. Why she displeased you. If necessary take her back to the time and place and have her tell you her thinking. Don't spend days on this but cover it well then move on to the next step.

You should also make your displeasure with her behavior and thinking known to her. Take time to insure she knows the depth of your displeasure.

Step 2: Then the slave should be sent off, by herself, to think about her wrong doing and the punishment that will surely come soon. Give her time to reflect on the lecture and her behavior along with the punishment that is to follow.

Step 3: She then should be called for and told to present herself in a punishment position. A short lecture (much shorter then the first one) should be given before punishment. Here, you can again tell her of your displeasure and what is expected of her in the future.

Step 4: Then comes the actual punishment. The slave should not be allowed to reach a frame of mind that would allow her to lessen the effect of the punishment (subspace or mental pain blocking techniques). She should be required to say "Thank you, Sir" after each stroke, and keep count of each stroke. If she shows signs of going into subspace or blocking the pain, force her out of that mental state, before continuing. Using a different instrument to punish her with than you would use for pleasure is advisable.

Step 5: Immediately after the punishment, the slave should be sent off, (to a corner) by herself, for a period of time to reflect on her punishment. _**After-care is not given right after punishment**_. _ **You can hold her and encourage her later. Right after punishment let her feel it emotionally as punishment.**_

After completion of all five steps, you should reassure the slave that her payment for the wrong doing is over, but you expect correct behavior in the future. Do not keep harping on the bad behavior after punishing her. Completion of the 5 steps should be an ending point for her punishment.

 **I would just like to reiterate the last step for anyone that was rubbed the wrong way with me having Rick send Michonne to a separate room after the punishment and not giving her proper aftercare - _Step 5: Immediately after the punishment, the slave should be sent off, (to a corner) by herself, for a period of time to reflect on her punishment. After-care is not given right after punishment. You can hold her and encourage her later. Right after punishment let her feel it emotionally as punishment._**

 **I didn't follow those steps in order, I realize that, but everything in the last chapter was taken straight from articles such as the one I cited above. So yes, I do research for this story to make it believable. I hope I don't sound rude, not many people indulge in this lifestyle and know very little about it, including myself. We're all learning here! But please don't insinuate that I'm not doing research, because I am. Let's hope I don't croak anytime soon, because if anyone goes through my browser history... they're in for a shock!** **If anyone would like the link to the website I cited above, or any other sites I've been to, or just generally have any questions, please feel free to message me!**

 **But enough of that! Please enjoy this next installment, let me know what you think about the playlist, and thank you all again for reading and commenting! You guys mean the world to me!  
**

* * *

 **Fifteen.**

The morning sun cracks into the windows but Michonne doesn't even care. She feels like shit. She's hungry as hell, her muscles ache, her head is pounding from the maybe three or four hours of sleep she's gotten, and she wants to come all over Rick's face. She hears her phone vibrate loudly against the nightstand and she rolls over, grabbing it before rolling back over onto her back.

 **I stopped by your room but you were sleeping. I have an early meeting, but I just wanted to tell you good morning :)  
**

He has the nerve to send her a smiley face. A fucking smiley face. Michonne cuts her eyes toward the window, pursing her lips as she rubs her face out of annoyance. But, the thought of possibly going through last night all over again stops her from typing out a snarky reply.

 **Good morning Sir.**

 **You feeling okay?**

 **Yes Sir.**

She's lying and he knows it. Rick smirks down at his phone as he sips on his coffee, ignoring the conversation around him in his conference room. Orgasm denial is no fun, he's tried it himself so he could understand what he's submissives would be enduring. You actually start to feel quite sick after a while. That, layered with the fact that he didn't let her have any dinner last night and that she's awake and responding to texts at seven fifteen in the morning proves that she's lying. He feels bad for anyone in the wake of one Michonne Moreau today.

 **What are your plans for today?**

 _You mean, I can't just lay here and die?_ She shrugs, like he's standing there watching her or something. She honestly doesn't even want to deal with anything or anyone today, but alas, she cannot just lay here and die. Not today anyway. She does however, have to do something to get rid of this _ache._ She stares back at her phone, _what are your plans for today_? Maybe she'll go to yoga with Maggie, you know, since she's only been asking Michonne to join her for the past two years.

 **I think I might go to yoga with Maggie, Sir.**

Rick raises his eyebrows and takes a quick breath as thoughts of her in yoga pants invades her mind. He flicks his eyes up for a second, making sure that no one is actively talking to him, and then retreats into his conversation with his surly sub.

 **I'd love to watch you do yoga ;)  
**

 **Oh yeah?**

 **Yes ma'me**

 **Well, maybe you'll get the pleasure one day Sir.**

"Rick?"

Rick snaps his head up, finding six pair of wide eyes staring back at him, "Yeah?"

"Do you like the design? Or, is it too modern for what they're looking for?" Noah asks, for the second time.

Rick sits up a little in his seat, pulling the young architects' renderings toward him. He cocks his head a little as he eyes Noah's detail, paired with Rosita's color schemes, "I love it. I think they will too, great job Noah."

Noah beams as Gareth falls back into his seat, tossing his pen to the table in anger. Rick eyes him quickly, _yuck it up fuck boy_. If he only knew how numbered his days are at Grimes Construction and Architecture.

 **See you tonight? Around seven?**

 **Yes Sir.**

 **See you then, Ms. Moreau:)**

Another fucking smiley face. What an ass. Michonne exits their string and flips over to Maggie's, alerting her that she'll be joining in on the yoga today. She rolls out of bed and sighs loudly. _Ugh_.

* * *

About an hour later, she stretched out on her yoga mat next to Maggie, dripping in sweat. Maggie failed to mention today's class is hot yoga. They are currently engaged in the standing half forward bend, their hands around their ankles as they lean forward. If feels good to stretch out but it also feels not so good to _stretch out._ She is incredibly in tune with the muscles of her vagina today, more than she's ever been in her life.

"This isn't helping Maggie." She hisses quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Maggie harshly whispers back, "Not helping what?"

Michonne rolls her eyes and lets out an aggravated sigh, just as the instructor speaks up, "Okay guys, let's try the wide legged forward bend. Foreheads to your mat, legs spread as wide as you can, hands around your ankles." The instructor commands, weaving in and out between the women as _Principles of Lust_ by Enigma plays in the background.

 _Th principles of lust_

 _Are easy to understand…_

 _Do what you feel_

 _Feel until the end_

Michonne leans forward slowly, resting her forehead on her pink mat before extending her legs on either side of her. She lets out a slow, breath before she inhales deeply. She can practically feel Rick's hands all over her backside, pressing his impressive bulge in between her ass cheeks as she poses. She breathes again. _Damn it! Stay focused._ She just can't escape him today. She can feel his lips right in the fold of where her ass stops and the top of her thigh begins. His hot, pink tongue sliding down her thigh, then in between the slippery lips between her legs.

 _Fuck_.

 _Mmm, baby girl._ His voice swarms over her, sliding over her skin like silk. _You taste so good baby._ The small hairs all over her body stand on end as she fantasizes about him. She can feel his fingers slipping up her stomach, slithering like snakes up to the valley of her breasts before he palms them firmly. Sweat drips from her brow and splatters to her mat below and she's not even sure that it's from the ninety-degree heat in here. He's not even here and he's _here_. Invading her like a cancer. _You miss me, baby?_ His hands are back, this time curving around her neck, squeezing lightly as he nibbles at her ear.

Michonne exhales, a low moan rumbling in her throat. Maggie cuts her eyes toward her friend and scrunches up her face as she eyes her. "Will you keep it down over there? I come here every day you know. These people know me." Maggie whispers.

Michonne lifts her hand and promptly flips her off, "Mind your business."

"Mind my business?" Maggie asks lowly, "You got a lot of nerve."

Michonne scoffs lightly as the slightly older but already greying yoga instructor asks for a new pose, "Alright ladies, dolphin pose."

 _The principles of lust_

 _Are burnt in your mind…_

 _Do what you want_

 _Do it until you find love_

Michonne twists into the new position, placing her ass back up in the air as she rests her forehead on the mat once more. She positions her arms on either side of her head and props up on her elbows, linking her fingers together in a ball at the top of her head. She closes her eyes and Rick is back, running his hands down her spine and grabbing a fistful of her hair. She inhales sharply as his other hand snakes around her middle and pulls her ass back into his crotch. _Not a word, Ms. Moreau._ His low chuckle sounds in her head and her body tightens. Her nipples could cut glass at this point.

Lord have mercy on her soul.

Yoga was a _bad_ idea.

After a few more suggestive poses, the class is coming to an end. They sit in the bound angle pose, their backs straight, the heels of their feet touching as they inhale and exhale on the instructors' command. Chatter in the room begins to build as the track changes to Enigma's _Mea Culpa Part II_. Maggie turns her head toward Michonne, smirking as she eyes the instructor as she moves by them, "I take it you've had your first orgasm denial session."

"He told you?" Michonne snaps her head toward her friend.

Maggie laughs at her, "No, it's written all over your mean ass today. I'm sure everyone in here heard your little erotic daydream."

Michonne scoffs, swatting Maggie's shoulder with her thin fingers, "Shut up."

"Don't you worry, he'll take care of you tonight." Maggie adds after a moment, standing and picking up her mat.

Michonne stares back at her with big eyes. When Maggie turns and starts heading for the shower, Michonne scrambles behind her, picking up her shit and jogging after her to keep up, "Wait a second, really? Really?"

Maggie laughs, opening her locker to grab her towel, "This is the next step in the punishment procedure."

Michonne's shoulders slump, "I can't take that shit again."

Maggie's eyes widen at her as she smiles back at her, "What all did he do to you?"

Michonne rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue a little before she starts, "First, he made he get in child's pose, and left me there for three hours."

"Damn!" Maggie calls softly, covering her mouth with her fist, "That is one of my favorites! I made Negan stand in the corner with a ping pong ball between his nose and the wall. Every time he started to wine, I reset the clock on his ass."

"Complete waste of time, if you ask me."

Maggie shrugs, "That's why he did it. You wasted his time at the store with your outburst, so he wasted yours."

Michonne scoffs, the wheels turning in her head as she connects all of the dots, "That totally makes sense now. Shit. I was so mad, I coulda punched him. You know I hate waiting for shit."

"Next?" Maggie slams her locker shut and moves toward the showers with Michonne right on her heels.

"Then, I got a little mouthy again." Michonne says shyly.

Maggie's eyes grow wide as she stares at her, "Michonne! I told you!"

"I know, I know! You know I can't help it! It slipped out! I rolled my eyes, I think, and then my yes Sir came out snarky as fuck. So, he spanked me, but that wasn't _that_ bad." She smiles as she reminisces, "I liked that."

Maggie rolls her eyes, "He shouldn't have done that."

"Why?"

"Punishments are not to be enjoyed. If an element of the punishment is pleasurable, it confuses the sub." Michonne nods slowly as they walk into the large, two-person shower, "What?"

"He stopped, rather abruptly."

"That's my boy." Maggie smirks, nodding in agreement of Rick's actions, "He knew you were enjoying it. What else?"

"What else?" Michonne asks dramatically, "Don't you think that's enough?"

"Depends on the crime. Mouthy subs are frowned upon across the entire spectrum of BDSM. Your roll is to obey, period, end of story. Mouthing off, attitude, rolling eyes, snarky responses, and flat out disobedience are some of the worst things you can do, besides cheat with another Dominant. Plus, you rolled your eyes and you had an attitude _during_ a punishment, which I told you not to do. Major no no."

"Jesus." Michonne shakes her head, turning on the water and pushing her hands under the stream to gauge the heat, "Then he put these vibrating balls in me, made me cook him dinner, watch him eat, then he wouldn't let me come."

"You shouldn't have had an attitude." Maggie shrugs, knowing she would have handed down a punishment much worse.

"Dually noted."

"Did he lecture you?"

"It wasn't really a lecture, I suppose," Michonne says, stepping into her stream of water, "He just asked me if I knew what I did wrong, if I knew why he was doing this, and if I was going to do it again. Then he made me sleep by myself."

Maggie turns toward her, her eyebrows furled as she steps into the hot stream of water, "Made you sleep by yourself?" Michonne nods, "Huh." She grunts, squinting her eyes a little.

Michonne's eyes widen as Maggie dips her head back into the water, running her hands through her hair, "What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?"

" _Huh_." Michonne mocks her, "Your _huh_. What does that mean?"

Maggie shrugs, "Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing? Nothing you do means nothing." Maggie turns away from her, wetting the rest of her body and reaching for her body wash, "Maggie!"

"Oh my lord!" She starts, raising her hand, "I just, I've always heard that Rick makes his subs sleep in his guestroom."

Michonne glances away, a slow smile spreading on her face, "Really?"

"Yes really. It's actually a very strict rule of his. No subs in his room, his bathroom, or his bed." Maggie smirks, turning back toward her, "But that doesn't seem to be the case anymore, does it?" A huge smile breaks onto Michonne's lips as she scrunches her nose up a little. She sways back and forth, holding her hands up to her chin, "Oh, you hussy." Maggie hisses, clicking her tongue at first but flashes a smile at her friend.

"Maybe it's just because I'm new to this." Michonne tries to reason, finally starting to wash herself.

"All the more reason to make you sleep alone. He was with Andrea for almost nine years, she never once, slept in his bed with him. If he stayed with her overnight, it was in his guestroom, period."

Michonne's smile grows wider but she turns away from Maggie quickly, lifting her head toward the ceiling as the water cascades down on her, "That cannot be true."

"It most certainly is. She griped about it all the time. She thought it was unfair after all of their time together, even brought it up to him once."

"What happened then?"

"He punished her by not allowing her to speak in his presence." Michonne whips around to face her, her mouth falling open as she stares at the brunette, "For a whole week. Not a word. He wouldn't let her serve him in any way and he denied her orgasms on a daily for seven days. If you learn anything from me, learn this," Maggie says, pointing her finger at Michonne, "Don't ever question your Dominant when you're in a scene. If you have a problem with something, bring it up outside of your playtime."

"Fuck." Michonne says lowly, throwing up her hands, "Well, I learned my lesson. No more back talk."

"Good. Last night might have seemed harsh but I've heard some stories about Mr. Grimes, he is very innovative when it comes to punishments. But," She coos in a sing-song tone, "The next phase is reassurance. Just like a puppy, you have to know that even though you've had an accident, you're forgiven and will be given a second chance." Maggie winks at Michonne, smirking again, "Cuddles and cookies."

Michonne beams back at Maggie, making the brunette laugh again.

* * *

The day doesn't speed up for Michonne but it is finally evening. She pulls into his parking garage and jumps out of the car, damn near running toward the elevator. She hopes what Maggie said at yoga is true because if she doesn't get any tonight, she'll run out and find somebody who'll give it to her. _Oh god_ , she groans inwardly, _I'm turning into Maggie_! She shoves her hands into the pockets of her skin tight black jeans and bites the inside of her lip as the silver box ascends her into the sky. The doors open after the ride and she steps into his foyer, the souls of her red converses skimming across the marble floor.

She's still unsure of herself in this large space, not knowing if she should head straight to his play room or announce herself first. She pulls out her phone to text him, not even sure if he's here yet. She's used to spotting her company's car in the parking lot to let her know that they've already arrived but when said company owns every car in said parking lot, how the hell is she supposed to know? She types out her message to him and is about to hit send when she's suddenly whirled around by two strong arms. She squeals but is cut off by his lips. Her arms go limp at her sides as he devours her, his long fingers digging into her hair as he cups her cheeks.

Rick pulls on her bottom lip, backing away just long enough to allow her to breathe before he attacks her again, stealing her air. He slides his hands around her small waist and then pushes them lower, over her plump behind. He lets his fingers curve underneath her cheeks before he lifts her into his arms, balancing her with one hand as he wraps her legs around his waist with the other. Michonne wraps around him like a second shirt, throwing her arms around his shoulders and digging her crotch into his as she carries her up the stairs. Their lips smack loudly as they move through the apartment, Rick stopping momentarily to lift her back up as she's slid down his chest.

He pushes her back into the wall and pushes his body into her as they both moan into each other's mouths. He cups her face with one hand and splays the other along her long, elegant neck before he kisses a wet trail along her chin and up to her ear. She bites down on his pinky and growls when she hears him inhale sharply. _Yes._ He pushes her up the wall a little, as he bites down on her neck before kissing her throat and underneath her chin. She giggles loudly, smiling like a loon as he eats her up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He undoes a few buttons of her silk blouse, exposing her cleavage and goes in for a taste, licking his way between her mountains.

"I like this bra." His voice is muffled as he pushes his face in between her perky breasts.

"You should," She answers breathlessly, "You bought it."

He chortles into her skin, causing a deep vibration to roll through her thick body. He pulls her away from the wall and continues their journey to his play room. He slams the door with his foot and moves them deep into the room, dropping her to the bed without a warning or notice. She falls into a fit of laughter as she bounces with the mattress beneath her and he smiles in return.

"I've been thinking about you all day." He admits to her, tugging at his tie to remove it.

"Same daddy." She coos.

A moan scratches at his throat. There it is again. _Daddy_. God, he loves how it sounds coming from her sweet, sweet mouth. He hurries out of his tie and suit jacket before dropping to his knees to start working on her shoes. He throws them over his shoulder and they land roughly on the hard wood floor with a thud. He slinks up her body and pulls at the button of her jeans before he undoes her zipper with haste. He sinks his fingers underneath them and pulls hard, wiggling them down her thighs and calves, smiling as she laughs again. Once she's free of them, he works his way back to her middle, inhaling her natural scent as her passion grows within her. He slips a hand in between her legs and smiles again as his fingers come back wet.

Michonne bites her lip as she sits up, resting her weight on her hands. He works on the rest of the buttons of her shirt and pushes the silk material away from her shoulders, letting it pool at her wrists. He reaches behind her and pops the snaps of her bra with his thumb and index finger, ridding her of the see-through yellow tulle. He places his hands on either side of her hips, fondling her thickness, liking how she feels in his hands. He swirls his tongue along her hip before he pecks hot kisses along her navel before dipping lower with his tongue. She falls back to the mattress and stares up at the ceiling as her fingers dig into his curly, silky tresses.

Rick's nails scratch at her skin as he digs his fingers underneath her matching thong. He pulls on the thin material so hard that it rips. He doesn't care, he just pulls it away from her and throws it to the ground, vowing to replace it sometime in the future, "Alexa." He calls, backing away from her but running his fingers down her legs as he moves.

"Hello Rick." The machine answers back, piping through invisible speakers throughout the room.

"Play something sexy."

 _Sex with Me_ by Rihanna begins thumping through the room as Rick disappears into the closet to pick out an outfit for her. He returns after a few minutes, a bright pick strappy number in his hands, along with a step ladder. He pulls her up onto her feet, holding open the garment for her to step into. He pulls the elastic straps up around her hips and torso, clipping the carabiners to the d-rings at her chest and waist. She remembers him holding this one up in the store, the brightest smile on his stupid face. She didn't understand why he wanted her to look like a mountain climber but something tells her she's about to find out. He stops to admire the bright pink splashed across her dark skin, licking his lips at the alluring contrast of them. He climbs up a few rungs on the ladder and reaches above her, Michonne following his hands with her eyes.

There's a long, silver bar bolted to the ceiling with thick, black nylon ropes attached to either side with another set of d-rings. Rick pulls at the rope until they fall free, dangling around her head. Two thick, black leather cuffs are attached to the ends. He holds out his hand and she willingly takes it, allowing him to guide her up the ladder. He grabs her right arm first, sliding her slim wrist through the cuff before he tightens it. He buckles it closed and pulls, testing the strength of the rope before he moves on to her left wrist. Once he's finished, he lets his hands crawl along her skin, tickling her a little.

"Ready?" Is all he asks as he finally removes his hands from her to grip the ladder.

She nods slowly, although a little nervous, and dangles one foot off the rung she's standing on. He pulls slowly on the ladder, pulling it away from her until she has the courage to step off with the other foot. Michonne's breath catches in her throat as she dangles there, suspended from the ceiling by her wrists like an acrobat. He grabs her legs and tosses them over his shoulders, barring most of her weight on them so her arms don't tire before he's finished with her.

Michonne links her ankles together around the back of his neck and adjusts her hips, wiggling closer to his face. Rick cups her behind in his hands and presses his fingers into her supple, soft skin, becoming intoxicated from the feeling of her thighs pressed around his head and face. Rihanna croons in the background as he pushes his nose in between her legs before slipping his tongue between her slick folds. She throws her head back as a warmth washes over her, created by his pretty pink, wet tongue. He digs his fingers into her flesh as he eats her, his head swaying back and forth. He groans against her, his breath shuddering against her throbbing center. She squeezes her legs around his head in response and lets out a passionate moan.

 _You know I got the sauce_

 _You know I'm saucy_

 _And it's always wet, a bitch never ever had to use lip gloss on it_

She pulls at her restraints as his tongue swirls around her middle, dipping in and out of her opening with force. She bucks her hips into him as hard as she can, feeling his beard scrape along the inside of her thighs with each thrust. He reaches up with a hand, those long fingers traipsing up her tummy until he connects with her thick nipple. He tweaks and pulls at it, rolling it between his skilled fingers, and then pinching softly to send shocks of slight pain throughout her entire body. He sops up her juices like she's a ripe fruit, ready for him to come and _pluck_ her. She writes wildly on top of him, grinding her pelvis against his lips and nose, creating a friction and rhythm all her own. She's been waiting for this shit all day.

Her toes begin to tingle as her heart begins to beat rapidly against her chest. She lets her head fall back again and pulls one her restraints, twisting her hands up until the buckles of each cuff clang together. Inaudible words fall from her mouth as Rick wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, _hard_. He flicks his tongue out in rapid bursts, thudding against her sensitive bud to push her to climax. He sucks on her again and she shatters like a glass sculpture. It's pure sensory overload for her. She can hear, smell, taste, see, and feel everything all at once; but nothing at all in the same breath. Her body, mind, and soul disconnect at the height of her orgasm and for once, she feels completely _free_.

Rick's assault continues, sucking and licking as her body quivers around him. She's so tight and swollen and sensitive; every flick of his tongue causes another wave of to crash over her body. He smacks on her loudly, clearly enjoying his dessert before the main course. He slips his tongue inside of her one last time, licking her insides as she jerks into him, hissing and moaning as her orgasm spreads through every inch of her. The beast finally decides to recede back into its cage and Michonne is left completely breathless and limp. If he weren't baring her weight, she'd resemble a child's ragdoll. She moans with each breath as her head lulls between her arms. She sucks her teeth, then runs her tongue along them as her mind and soul reenter her body. He kisses the inside of her thighs, licking at the wetness that splashed along them.

He inhales deeply, then exhales with a satisfied hum. He could live between her legs, he really could. He looks at her, through her legs and up between her breasts, admiring her long, curved neck. He kisses her thigh one last time and unwraps a leg from his neck. He removes the second and steps back to gaze upon his Mona Lisa. She bites her bottom lip and smiles, closing her eyes as she dangles before him, not being able to hide if she wanted to. He reaches out to touch her slightly, before he grabs her hip and pushes abruptly, sending her spinning. The nylon ropes twist up together as she spins, the bar holding all the weight of her dance. Once the ropes can twist together no more, her spin reverses and she wraps her legs together, feeling like a ballerina. She laughs a little as she then stretches out her legs as she cuts through the air and ultimately starts to slow down again.

Rick watches with that side smirk of his plastered on his face, "You are so pretty baby." He half whispers as he moves toward her, feeling cold without her skin connected to his.

He kisses her hot skin through the intricate cuts of her playsuit before peaking up at her through his dark eyelashes. He bites her hip playfully before he grabs the ladder again, pushing it underneath her so she can rest her weight on it as he undoes her cuffs. Once she's free, she falls into his awaiting arms, crashing against his hard body. He sets her on her feet by the bed and is about to knock her back down to mattress before she stops him.

 _I'ma need you deeper than six, not a coffin_

 _We're not makin' love, tryna get nasty_

 _Wrap up your drugs, come make me happy_

"Sir?"

"Yes ma'am?" He whispers lustfully, his eyes wandering all over her.

She cocks her head to the side, biting down on her bottom lip, "Me on top?"

Rick beams at her again, "Yes ma'am."

She smiles widely back at him as her fingers inch up to the buttons on his shirt, "May I?"

Rick just nods in return, dropping his head a little as she begins to unbutton his tight shirt. She works slowly, popping each button through its small hole, peaking her eyes up at him every so often as she smiles. Once the last button is undone, she moves her hands inside of the shirt, pushing it away from his torso in one swift move. She pulls at the bottom of his sleeveless undershirt, working it up his stomach and chest until it's over his head and crumpled on the floor beside them. Her thin fingers begin to work on his belt, undoing it quickly before she pulls it through the loops of his pants. It falls to the floor, the buckle making a loud thud against the wood floor.

He pushes her shoulder and she falls back to the mattress, laughing loudly as she bounces. He smiles down on her and he works his way out of his slacks and frees his impressive hard on. He climbs up to her, unbuckling her playsuit to pull her out of it and throws it to the floor. Her legs part as he kisses her again, massaging her lips with his own as his body cuddles down in between her legs. Their lips smack loudly as his weight compresses her into the mattress below, his fingers playing with her hair all the while. He rolls them over after a moment, twisting them so she's now placed firmly on his lap. He runs his large hand down the side of her face, allowing her to bite down on his pinky again seductively.

She splays a hand on his sculpted chest and leans up, baring her weight on him. She reaches behind herself and grasps him, guiding him toward her wet center. She lowers down on him slowly, her mouth falling open as she exhales loudly at the feeling up him filling her up. Once she's situated, she shifts back and forth, wiggling her hips some to take every inch of him in. Rick rubs her legs with his hands, working his fingers to the inside of her thighs before he squeezes her skin. His hands then skirt up to her beautiful breasts, cupping and molding them with his fingers. He then lets them linger down to her sides and he holds onto her, digging his fingers into her skin.

"Enjoy the ride baby." He whispers, his eyes sparkling in the light.

She giggles a little, resting her hands on his chest as she begins to rock up and down on him. She rolls her neck as his hips counter her moves, pushing up as she's coming down. Within seconds her slow pace has graduated up to a brisk one, her fingers making deep indentions into his skin. He's so _deep_. She leans forward as she rides him, kissing him firmly as her body bounces with a rhythm. They both inhale deeply together as her hands slip to the bed, gripping the sheets with all her might. His hand moves to her hip and ass, grabbing a handful of her flesh as she moves. He thrusts into her and she grunts loudly, releasing his mouth with a smack. She continues to crash down against his deep thrusts, biting down on his chin as she moans.

Michonne presses her breasts into his chest as she slides along him, moaning loudly as she feels his hands slither along her back and to her ass again. She giggles as he squeezes her behind, then kisses him deeply once more. The song changes to _Bed_ by Jacquees and she moans a little, "I love this song." She whispers into his ear as the bass thumps through the room. She leans back up, scratching her fingernails along his chest. She closes her eyes as she rolls her hips into his, "I know you wanna love, but I just wanna fuck, and girl you know the deal, I gotta keep it real."

Rick pulls himself up, crashing his chest back into hers as he kisses her hard. He bites her lips, moaning as she grinds down on him, "I know you wanna see, I know you wanna be, in my B-E-D, grinding slowly." He sings along, "Fuck baby. You are so good." He moans.

She giggles seductively, gripping his shoulders with her thin fingers as she bounces with the music, her walls tightening around his thickness. He grunts again and it's like music to her ears. She loves driving him crazy. She didn't know it was possible to enjoy sex this much. She was falling in love with fucking this man. She wished this is all she had to do in life. 8am, fuck Rick Grimes. Noon, fuck Rick Grimes. 5pm, fuck Rick Grimes. Midnight, eat chocolate, and then fuck Rick Grimes. Done, done, and done. She'd never miss an appointment.

His hips continue to counter hers, his pace quickening, his thrusts growing deeper and more desperate as she crashes down on him. She rides him with a skill like no other; rolling, squeezing, bouncing on him like a goddamn carnival ride. His head begins to swim as his body tightens. He can feel the pull deep in his gut and testicles. He is so ready. Michonne continues to hum along with the song as her own release begins to build. He slams into her, hitting that deep ache and she grunts into his ear, "Mmm, shit daddy."

He grabs a handful of her locs and pulls as he starts to punish her, pounding into her furiously. He wants this. He needs it. Michonne lets her head lull, leaning back a little as Rick nips at her nipples while her breasts bounce with her. His heart is in his throat as he fucks her with all his might, his eyes closing as he gives into the need. Without warning, he grunts loudly as his grip on her hair tightens. He comes hard, his hot seed warming her insides as he spurts in her. Michonne is quick to follow, her moans mixing with his as her sex quivers and tightens around him as she comes.

They ride the wave for as long as they can, her hips still moving slowly. Their joint orgasm soon recedes back into the depths of their bodies, leaving them completely out of breath. They fall back onto the mattress in a heap. They are nothing but arms and legs and hair as their chests rise and fall. She rolls her head toward him after a moment, not able to stop the giggles that erupt from within her. She slaps his chest lightly as his own laughter grows. He pulls her into him, throwing his arm over her chest and hooking his hand around the back of her neck. She rests her hands on his thick forearm as he nuzzles into the side of her face and neck.

"Well done." He coos after a moment, causing her to laugh again.

"Right back atcha, Sir. God," She lets out, another smile spreading on her face, "That was better than Maggie could have ever described."

"Getting pointers from Ms. Greene, are we?"

He pinches her side and she squirms, giggling again, "No. She was just kind of giving me the lay of the land, that's all."

"Uh huh," He grunts, although smiling as he does, "I thought you'd be weird with me today." He admits.

"Why?"

He shrugs, "Last night was tough for you. But you did great, you really did."

"Thank you, Sir." She beams as her eyes roam around the ceiling.

"It wasn't fun for me either." This is the first time he's ever cared about how a sub has felt about a punishment. But, something in him needs her to know that he didn't enjoy it either. He wouldn't have done it at all if she hadn't persisted, "I don't like punishing you."

She laughs a little, "Awww."

"I mean it. You're too cute to punish." She rolls her head to face him, those big brown eyes staring right through him as she smiles softly. He can't help the curl that tugs at the corners of his mouth. Holy hell, what is she doing to him?

"Well, I'm kinda glad it happened." She says, his eyes growing big as he stares at her, causing her smile to grow bigger, "It was tough," She starts, "But I needed it. I mean it, I want you treat me how you would anyone else. I can take it."

He chuckles lowly but it dies away. He takes the moment to drink her all in, his eyes wandering over her as she returns her lazy, satisfied gaze to the ceiling, "You're incredible." He whispers, "You know that?"

She smiles again, biting her bottom lip as she closes her eyes, humming a little as she exhales, "Not really, but I'm getting there."


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for the wait! Life kinda got in the way a bit. Don't forget to check out the playlist! The link is over on my tumblr. The story is definitely gonna ramp up from here. We're still in for some sexy times, but some questions will be answered, new key characters will be introduced, and drama will be lurking... ;)**

* * *

 **Sixteen.**

The couple lays in their bliss for a while, legs, and arms, and hair intertwined like vines. She strokes his arm gently as it drapes over her chest, his fingers scratching gently at her scalp. His warm breath washes over her skin, his nose and lips buried into the crook of her neck. As he speaks softly, his lips brush against her, causing goosebumps to pop up all along her still sensitive skin. He smiles at something she's said and she can feel it, his lips curling up as her body warms, his teeth nipping at her shoulder seductively. He can feel her heartbeat against his forearm; _thump thump, thump thump, thump thump_. Steady and strong. She laughs and it beats against him like rain against a window pane. He sighs. She sighs. Relaxed, satisfied, happy, sighs.

"Alexa," He calls after a while, "What time is it?"

"It is currently eight seventeen pm in Atlanta."

"No wonder I'm hungry." He chuckles, "I haven't eaten since noon."

Michonne laughs lightly, "You know I'm always down to eat." She sits up a little, "What would you like me to make?"

Rick sits up beside her, cupping her cheek in his palm as his eyes dance over her face. He pulls her into him and kisses her slowly as he curls his fingers around the back of her neck. She moans into him as their lips move. Her eyes flutter shut and stay closed as he pulls away, a soft smile playing on her lips. She takes a deep breath before her eyes crack open again, her smile widening as she nervously glances away from him, "Let's go out. I'm out of chocolate anyway." He says quietly, smirking back at her.

"Okay." She shrugs happily.

He crawls off of the bed, grabbing her wrist to drag her with him. He stands and picks her up, cradling her into his chest and begins the all familiar walk to his bedroom. Her thin fingers trace invisible circles on his chest as he moves them into his bathroom, using his elbow to flip the switch to introduce the light. He sets her on her feet delicately and starts the shower as Michonne fixes her hair back up into a sloppy bun. Once the water is warm, he steps aside and holds out his hand to her. She takes it, slipping her thin fingers into the palm of his hand and steps into the large, black marble shower and under the stream of steady water.

Rick is right behind her within an instant as he shuts the glass door behind him. His hands wrap around her small waist, his hands splaying on her flat stomach as he pulls her back into his front. She cocks her head to the side, smiling as she relaxes into him. Maggie's words come back to mind as she turns in his hands, _It's actually a very strict rule of his. No subs in his room, his bathroom, or his bed._ She licks her lips and smiles at him, her eyes searching his. What does this mean to him? Why is she, out of all of the women in his life, in his bathroom? In his bed? He's not as hard as he tries to come across. _Not with me anyway…_

He reaches over her head and pulls out his body wash from the square cut into the tiles of the shower. He hands it to her and steps back, his eyes mischievous again, "Well?" Her mouth drops open as her eyes get wide, "Don't get all shy on my now, Ms. Moreau."

She struggles to keep the smirk off her face as she cuts her eyes toward him, "You seem to know an awful lot about those books for you not to have read them."

"Oh, I've read them. I had to see what all of the fuss was about." He chuckles, "And they were terrible."

Michonne laughs, squirting some of the thick liquid into his white wash cloth and folding it into her hands, to suds it up, "Some of it is the same."

Rick scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes, causing her to laugh again, "Say that again and I'm kicking you out. Nothing we do or will do, is anything like those ridiculous stories."

She shrugs a little, pushing the now sudsy wash cloth to his skin, rubbing slow circles on his skin, "Yeah. That book could have never prepared me for last night." She laughs, keeping her eyes on his shoulders and arms.

He stops her, placing his finger underneath her chin and tilting her head up to face him again. His eyes are dark as they search hers for a serious answer, "I was too harsh with you." He nearly whispers.

"No you weren't." She answers just as lowly, blinking up at him.

He takes a breath, his eyes wandering around her face for any sign of deception, "You're okay?"

"Yes." She reiterates, smiling again, "I'm fine, really." She shrugs again, dropping her eyes back to his body as she starts to wash him again, "I liked the spanking. That was fun."

He grins back at her, "Oh yeah?"

She nods, swirling the wash cloth down to his chest and stomach and then around to his upper and lower back, "We can do that again? I mean, outside of a punishment? Maggie told me that I'm not supposed to enjoy any part of the punishment, it'll just confuse me."

"Ms. Greene would be correct," He answers, tilting his head up a little straighter as she moves to his neck, "And yes, we can. Only when you've been a bad girl, in a good way."

She smiles widely again, wiggling her eyes brows at him, drawing a laugh from him before she continues washing him. She can't hide the happiness that fills her as she moves over his butt and legs. She's the only one that been _here_. She's the only one to enjoy him in this way. Maybe she _is_ incredible. Maybe _she_ just needs to believe it. She finishes with him and moves behind him to allow him full access to the water. She rests her hands on his shoulders, then drags them down his arms to help the stream of water rid him of the soap. She lets her fingers roam along him, his back, his chest, his stomach, his forearms, adding to the map of him in her mind.

He's hard and soft, all at the same time as her hands move along him. He isn't a gym rat, but he isn't a couch potato either. He turns a little under the water, exposing his back to her and she takes a satisfied breath as her hands drop away from him. His muscles flex softly as he lifts his head toward the ceiling, tilting it slightly as his mouth falls open just a bit. The water splashes over him, beading up as it slips down his biceps and forearms. She swallows again as she follows the streams of water as it slithers down his shoulders and back, his muscles flexing again as he lifts his hands to run them through his hair. He's an Adonis, carved right out of stone.

She grabs his expensive shampoo and pours a dollop into her palm before moving her hands into his hair. He tilts his head down toward the floor, allowing her full access to his dark tresses. She massages his scalp gently with both of her hands for a minute, before scratching at his head lightly with her fingertips. He groans a little and she smiles at herself, biting her bottom lip at the sound of him. She works her hands through his long, dark hair, making sure every strand has been touched by the soap. She pushes his head gently back down underneath the water and helps it wash his hair clean.

She pulls out his conditioner, pouring the thick, white soap into her palm once more. He steps toward her and flicks his blue eyes up to hers, piercing her right to her core. She smirks nervously and digs her fingers back into his wet hair, causing his head to dip low again. She swallows harshly as she works the conditioner into a lather. Is she supposed to be feeling like this? Just a look from him and butterflies are let loose throughout her entire body. What exactly _is_ she feeling? This isn't like Mike. Or Spencer. Or Jean Luc (the starving French artist that she just knew was _the_ one in college) for that matter. No, this is… different than all that, but she can't put her finger on it, exactly. _Don't overthink it, just go with it, Chonne,_ her inner voice coos. _You don't have to figure everything out all of the time._

She should figure something like this out though, shouldn't she? This can't just be the sex, although, that would be reason enough to be feeling what she's feeling. His words to her from their dinner float back to her. _Bingo, and I don't want them falling in love with me… love brings complication._ She blinks a few times, pulling herself back in the moment. _Don't even go there. That is not what this is about_. He'd be so angry if he knew that she was even thinking about this. He warned her. _He warned you._ So, she pushes the thoughts away, biting the inside of her cheek as she scratches at his scalp with her fingers.

She turns him around so he's facing away from her and gets up on her tip toes, peering over his shoulders as the conditioner plops to the ground, swirling around their feet before it disappears in the drain. She scratches at his scalp again and again, eliciting a guttural response from him. She giggles at him, and it grows louder and more out of control as he turns and picks her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He pushes her back into the cool marble of the shower, his face centimeters from hers as her laugh bounces off of the glass door. _God_. He crushes his lips to hers, digging his hips into her, his course pubic hair tickling the sensitive skin of her lower half. She wraps her arms around his neck and gives into him, his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

She digs her fingers into his hair and moans deeply into his wet mouth. Her lower half responds to him immediately, her walls and lips coating themselves with her natural juices. Her nipples bud against his chest and she can feel him growing in between her legs. _Mmm, mm, mmm._ His stomach growls loudly and his lips still against hers. She laughs again as her eyes pop open, their lips still resting against one another's. "I think you're hungry." She giggles.

"Yeah," He chuckles, "Great timing."

She laughs loudly again, letting him splash a few kisses along her clavicles and chest, before he lets her back down on earth. Rick washes her quickly and they exit the shower, him wrapping her up in a towel and slapping her behind as she saunters into his room. He stops her with a tug on the wrist, and she turns to find him behind her with a small tub of Palmer's Cocoa butter in hand. She laughs again, knowing he bought it especially for her. She drops her towel and allows him to rub her down with the sweet-smelling lotion. His hands are slow and deliberate, sliding along her skin with great precision as he smooths it in.

Once he's finished, she moves down his hallway and back into his playroom, heading straight toward her closet to pick out an outfit. She slips into a plain, black, slightly baggy t shirt and jean shorts, before shoving her feet into a pair of flats. She skips down the stairs and meets him near the elevator. He stands tall in a white t shirt and jeans, the hat with the puma plastered on the front adorning his head. He hands her purse to her and she slings the strap over her chest and shoulder before he links their fingers together and pulls their bodies into the elevator. She rests her body against his as they ride in the metal box, only separating herself from him once the doors slide open.

He intertwines their fingers again as they move toward his row of cars. The Jag illuminates just as he nears it, the head lights and interior lights popping on, as well as the lights underneath each door. The doors unlock as they both move toward the passenger side. Rick opens the door for the queen before him, holding it as she slips inside. She eyes him as he moves to his side and plops down next to her, slamming the key into the ignition and turning it over. He pops the roof and it begins to retract as he pushes in the clutch and throws it into first gear, guiding them slowly out of the parking garage. He takes it slow through the residential area, as his building is surrounded by other upscale apartment buildings, but once they hit the entrance ramp to the highway, he lets the performance car loose.

The warm air whips through Michonne's hair, piled high on her head, as he pulls them deeper into the city, slamming the car into sixth gear, reaching almost a hundred miles an hour. The radio gradually gets louder as his speeds increase, _If You Let Me_ by Sinead Harnett surrounding them. Michonne closes her eyes and rests her head on his shoulder as the warm Atlanta air washes over her. She's reminded of her teenage years, ripping through the city in Pastor Herschel's 1967 Chevelle as Maggie made out with her boyfriend in the back seat. She was so free back then. This time last year, she thought that person was gone forever. But now? She's getting back to that girl. All because of this kinky ass white boy.

He exits and slows down to crawl once they're within the bounds of the city once more. He pulls into a CVS and pulls her into the store with him, heading straight for the candy isle. He slinks his arm over her shoulder and pulls her into his chest as he eyes the selection before him, picking up an assorted bag and reading over the contents, "You like snickers?"

"Who doesn't like snickers?" She questions, craning her neck to eye him.

"Good. This is my favorite bag but they usually go heavy on the snickers." He points his chin toward the Mr. Good Bars and the Hershey's milk chocolate with almonds, "Grab a few of those, please."

Michonne does as she's asked, grabbing the yellow packaged Mr. Good Bars and the almond chocolate in her hand before they make their way toward the young cashier. Rick keeps her close as the freckle faced boy rings them up, sliding him a twenty and letting him keep the change. They're back on the road within a few minutes, winding through the city traffic before pulling up to Zinburger Wine & Burger bar. She's never been, but over the past few days, trying something new is the least of her worries. The place is packed, although it's nearing closing time.

They move toward the bar, Rick once again slipping his arm over her shoulders, keeping their fingers linked, "May I order for you?"

She giggles a little, "Like I have a choice."

He shrugs but that famous smirk illuminates his features as she laughs again. A small red head approaches them from behind the bar, a bright smile on her face, "Welcome to Zinburger. Is it going to be for here or to go?"

"To go, please." Rick smiles genuinely.

"Alrighty," She says, tapping on the POS system in front of her, "What can I get you?"

"Two Kobe burgers, medium, one loaded fry, one onion ring, and two Old Speckled Hen Nitros for drinks."

Michonne smiles up at him as he orders like a pro, but tugs on his fingers, "And a strawberry cheesecake float please. For dessert." She shrugs.

He chuckles and turns his attention back toward the red head, "And one strawberry cheesecake float, please."

"Perfect, give us a few minutes and we'll have it right out to you." The bubbly red head announces with another bright smile.

They lounge around the bar, Michonne sipping on a water as they wait for their food. It doesn't take long, about twenty minutes, before the red head is back, handing over a large brown bag containing their dinner and drinks. He hands off the bag to Michonne to keep in her lap as they back out of the parking lot. They're off again, this time heading toward his office building. He winds through the parking garage, all the way to the top, exposing them to the view of the city below them. He pulls along the concrete wall, parking parallel to it before he shuts the car off again. They both climb out, Rick hoisting her up onto the wall before he spreads out their food before them.

They eat a first silently, Michonne kicking her feet against the wall a little as she bites into an onion ring and takes a sip of her shake. Rick is a few inches to her left, facing the city as he leans against the wall, his elbows propping him up. He straightens up to take a swig of his canned beer, before digging his fork into their loaded French fries, "This is a nice view." Michonne pipes up after a while, plopping down on her feet and turning to gaze out upon the city, "You keep it all for yourself?"

"Nah," He chuckles, "I'm not greedy. You like the food?"

She nods, as she takes a forkful of French fries into her mouth, "Mmm hmm." She giggles, through her full mouth, "It's really good."

He holds the cold can of beer to his lips, letting it linger for a moment before he actually takes another drink. He keeps his eyes on her as she turns for her own drink, tilting her head back as she takes a sip of the gold liquid. He continues to watch her as she returns her attention to her burger, taking a bite and licking her lips as she chews slowly. She hums a little when she eats, especially when it's good food. Has he ever noticed that about any of his other subs? Not a one. He wipes at the corner of her mouth as some juice from the medium cooked burger escapes. She smiles nervously, dropping her head a little before she sighs deeply with a smile still on her lips. He rubs the back of his index finger with his thumb before lifting it to his lips and sucking on it gently. He wanted to have the taste of her in his mouth again.

"Can I ask you something?" Michonne asks quietly, looking over at him nervously.

"Anything." She clears her throat and takes another deep breath, grabbing at the M neckless around her neck and pulls it along the chain, "What?" He chuckles, picking up on her nervousness.

"I don't know if I should ask it or not." She answers quietly, trying to hide her smile.

Rick furrows his brow, his eyes squinting a little, "Out with it, girl."

She laughs again and scratches at her scalp, "Maggie told me not to question you."

"Only when we're in a scene." He answers quickly, "We're not in a scene. Nice try though. Spit it out."

"God, you're such a jerk." Michonne giggles a little more, looking over the city once more. Rick bumps into her shoulder with his, "I just, I don't want you to get mad." She slumps her shoulders some and gives him those pitiful puppy dog eyes.

"I'm not going to get mad, okay?" He smiles widely, flashing those pretty white teeth, "I'm gonna get mad if you don't ask me your question."

She sighs again, grabbing another onion ring and popping it into her mouth, "Okay. When Maggie and I were in yoga, she told me that it's a rule of yours, a strict rule, that your subs don't sleep with you, in your room, that is."

"Okay." He drags out, not really understanding where she's going.

"So, I guess, my question is, why are you letting me sleep with you, in your bed? Or, letting me shower with you? She said that um, your old sub, Andrea, never got to sleep with you and that you were together for like nine years or something."

Rick rolls his eyes a little, taking another sip of his beer, "Ms. Greene has a big mouth, doesn't she?"

Michonne sighs heavily, causing Rick to chuckle, "See? I told you I didn't want to ask. I shouldn't have brought it up." She exclaims, clicking her teeth a little, "Never mind."

"No, no, no, no," He reassures, "It's my fault, I haven't been very communicative with you about my past. If you have questions, I want you to feel comfortable enough to ask me."

"But, to your point, Maggie does have a really big mouth." Michonne starts, "All I told her was what happened during my punishment and how you banished me to your guestroom and she spilled her guts about everything after that."

Rick laughs again, "Banished you?"

Michonne's mouth falls open as she eyes him and he laughs louder, clapping his hands, "Excuse me, that's what you did."

"I did not, don't be so dramatic." He cuts his eyes toward her before he shakes his head, continuing to chuckle as he lifts his beer again, "I could have made you sleep on the floor, with no blankets or pillow mind you, or in a dog cage."

She nods emphatically, sipping on her shake, before she shrugs, "Or in a closet, I know. I did my research," She giggles a little, "But still, I think I hated that part the most."

He cuts his eyes toward her again as she gazes out onto the city. _I think I hated that part the most_. Him too. He slept like hell that night, tossing and turning, blanket on and then off, head on his pillow, then throwing the pillow to the floor. He couldn't get comfortable without her. _You aren't doing her any favors. She's getting used to you. You need to stop this._ His lips part a little as he turns his head to face his city again. _You're letting her get to close._ This isn't what Rick Grimes is about. Not since Lori. He chews on the inside of his mouth as his mind races. Something in him knows that this is exactly what Maggie was talking about but something even _deeper_ knows that this is his worst fear. It trumps the realization that Michonne is already getting closer to him than either he or Maggie could have anticipated.

It's happening again.

 _Quit it. It's been a fucking week._ Has it even been a week? Regardless, it feels like a lifetime. Just being with her, now, watching her eat as the lights of the city illuminate her skin, how it electrifies her dark eyes and accentuates those deadly thick lips. He knows it's happening again. But he doesn't want to pull away like he thought he would. He doesn't want to push her away, he doesn't want to end it, he doesn't want to _gently_ back off like he told Maggie he would. He wants to eat it up. He wants to let it consume him until he doesn't even recognize himself. He wants to worship her every day and every night from here until eternity. He wants to bathe in her beauty, spoil her with all of the diamonds and gold he can attain…

He takes a sudden breath.

Fuck. It's happening again.

"I guess I just wanna know why you're changing your rules for me. I told you, I want you to treat me just like any other sub you'd be with." Michonne's voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He blinks a few times, then turns toward her, "I don't want any favors."

He nods slowly, finishing off his beer before taking her shake from her hands and sipping up the thick dessert, "I let you sleep with me because," He stops as he ponders his words carefully, "Because," But he can't come up with anything. He shrugs and laughs, taking a step back to lean up against his Jag, "I don't know why. I just let you." He shrugs.

She smiles back at him but confusion is written all over her face. She squints her eyes a little as she turns to him, "But I thought-"

"Listen," He cuts her off, "It isn't going to be like all that stuff you read. Things change from relationship to relationship, strict rules for one, may not work for another. This," He motions his fingers between her and himself, "Is different from Rick and Andrea. It's different from Rick and all the other women I've been with. We're Rick and Michonne."

She rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue a little, "I know that. You're supposed to be training me to get me to where you like your subs. I just don't understand how I can do what you want if you're changing things. You don't think I can do it? I haven't proven yet that I can?" She asks earnestly, her shoulders slumping some as her eyes bounce back and forth between his.

"That's not it. You're doing fine." He tries to reassure her.

She purses her lips as she cocks her head to the side. That famous Michonne attitude rearing its head again. He opens his mouth but she cuts him off, holding up her hand, "Sorry," She takes a breath, closing her eyes to compose herself before she saunters right back into another punishment, "You're not answering my question." She says a little quieter.

"They were all well established in this lifestyle, they knew what to expect from themselves and from me. You're sensitive, you're new. You need me to be gentle right now, which is why I didn't want to punish you so soon."

"You think I'm weak." She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and turning from him.

He grabs her arm, pulling her back to him. He turns her around to face him and tilts her head up to him with his index finger, "Sensitive is not weak. It's human, it's normal. It's a trait that I'm not used to anymore and honestly, it's refreshing." He takes another breath, lets it fill his lungs before he exhales slowly, "We can be like robots, people in this lifestyle. Do this, say that, be here, go there. Yes Sir, No Sir, thank you Sir," He trails off, "It gets stiff. Rigid. I don't have to be rigid with you and, I kinda like that. That's why I'm not following my usual training regimen. I like this." He chuckles, "This is fun, you're fun. There's no need to rush."

"You broke up with Andrea when she wanted to sleep with you in your bed." She pouts, her bottom lip poking out a little, "That's what Maggie told me."

Rick can't help but chuckle again, "It was a mutual decision for us to split, that had nothing to do with it. Our differences were growing day by day, it made us both realize that we weren't what each other wanted anymore. We'd become complacent with each other. It needed to happen. We're both happier now." She shrugs again, still unhappy with his answers. He laughs again, tugging at her arms, "Maybe I'm the one that needed to change, not you. Did you ever think of that? You can't grow in life if you're constantly standing in the same spot. I've been the same Dom for fuck, twenty something years? Same rules, same expectations for twenty some odd years." He stresses, "I needed to change it up a little to keep up with you young bloods."

She finally cracks a smile, clicking her teeth a little as she does, "I'm not that young."

"Oh hush." He pulls her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her back as she rests her head on his chest, "The rules keep changing for everyone, you know. Not just you. The fight, the struggle to keep everything the same, it keeps you warm, it keeps you fed, but you gotta let it go after a while. I can admit that. But if you want, we start working on longer scenes, something a little more traditional of me."

"I'd like that, not that I don't like what we're doing now. I just don't want you to regret this later, that's all." He scoffs but Michonne keeps her face pressed to his chest as she flattens her hands on her back. She stares out across the parking lot, blinking slowly as she lets his words sink it, "But, what you're really saying is that I'm not _that_ special. That this is all about _your_ personal growth?" She teases.

"Oh my god," He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. She giggles into him, secretly falling in love with the way his laugh vibrates through her.

"I'm joking, I'm joking. I hear you."

He glances down at her and tightens his hold on her, "Do you? Really?" She nods, "I wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for you. You're changing me. For the good." He says seriously, "Plus, girl, it's only been a week. I'm trying to introduce you slowly. I can't expect a full, hours long scene with you, and you shouldn't expect that from yourself yet. You're learning. Make sense?"

She nods, "I suppose, yeah."

They stand there for a while, Michonne in between his legs, her face crushed into his white shirt and chest, her arms around his torso as he leans on his car, his arms around her just as tight. He knows her mind is probably still racing, wanting to ask more questions, dig deeper into the man that Rick Grimes is. He'd be annoyed with that kind of behavior before but he wants to give her something. Especially after she told him about Mike. That was a sore subject for her, one that stretches deeper than he can imagine, but she trusted him with it. He should trust her with something.

"I um, I lied to you when we went out to dinner a while ago." He admits after some time.

She cranes her neck up so that she can see him, "Yeah? About what?"

His eyes search hers for a moment before he glances away from her. He shifts a little, taking another breath, "I was married. A long time ago." She leans back from him but keeps her arms around him as her eyes grow wide, "Her name was Lori. We grew up together back in King County. We'd dated on and off since we were like six." He chuckles, although sadly, as the memories flood back, "She was the one that I first started experimenting with. We got married three days after we graduated from high school."

"What happened?" Michonne asks breathlessly.

Rick shrugs, "I dunno," He lies, opting to leave out the fact that Lori was fucking his best friend behind his back and ran off with his son, "We just grew apart. Just because you've been together since you were six doesn't mean you should get married, apparently."

Her eyes bounce between his in the dark, the lights from the streets below and the skyscrapers brightening his eyes, "So, all of that about not wanting the white picket fence and kids and love?"

"It's true now, but not so much back then." He answers simply, "I'm not cut out for it." _Wrong, you don't deserve it_ , "I tried and it just didn't work."

"That's not entirely your fault. You know that, right?" Michonne asks, "She owns some of it too."

He nods slowly, his eyes wandering everywhere except for her, "Yeah."

"Mike had a habit out of making things my fault," She adds, "Even when he was the one with attitude, or when he was the one that had the bad day. I took it because I thought I had to. But I didn't, I shouldn't have. He owns it too."

"Is that why you guys divorced?" He asks, staring over the top of her head as his mind begins to wander.

She bites her lip and shakes her head against his chest, "Not entirely." She says quietly, memories of their late son flooding her senses, "Another story for another time."

She glances up at him and watches him avoid eye contact with her, the wheels in her mind turning again. He's not even really listening anymore but he nods slowly as he stares out into the darkness. She wants to ask so many questions at this revelation from him. But she won't. He gave her something, and she knows he doesn't give anyone anything without good cause, "Does Maggie know?"

He shakes his head, "Nobody knows. Just you and Lori."

She leans back into him and closes her eyes as he tightens his grip on her again. She takes a deep breath of him, letting her nostrils fill with his cologne and body wash and _him._ They stay that way for only God knows how long. Rick glances at his watch and it ticks to midnight. He glances down, craning his neck to see her, only then discovering that she is fast asleep. Her breaths are deep and rhymical. She's as relaxed as he's ever seen her. So much so that he doesn't want to disturb her. But, he collects her up in his arms as best he can and sets her back in the car. He discards of their trash and begins their slow drive back to his place, placing his hand over her exposed knees as she unconsciously moves to rest her head on his shoulder.

He drives for a few hours as his jumbled mind refuses to give it a rest. He rubs his thumb over her skin as he keeps one hand on the wheel, his eyes darting around as he wound his way through the back streets of his beloved city. Did he give away too much? Should he have given her more? Does he want this again? Does he really want to give into this and let it grow? He doesn't know. The fear won't let him answer it. But he knows that he doesn't want to lose her. This is most human that he's felt in years; how can he give that up? God, he doesn't even know if this is anything that she would even want. Just because she likes sleeping next to him doesn't mean she wants any more than what he's giving her. He shakes his head as he sits at a red light, rubbing his chin absentmindedly as he waits for the green light.

 _That's it, just wait for the green light. She'll either give it to you, or she won't_. The light turns green and he's off again, pulling his hand from her just long enough to shift gears. He'll just take it slow. Ride it out until they're forced to bring it up, if it ever gets to that point. Even if it doesn't, as long as he can make her orgasm, as long as he can have her in his bed, in his thoughts, in his dreams, he'll be okay. Until he's not. Until she outgrows him. And then he'll be lost again. Wandering through his shell of a life, moving from woman to woman, thoughts of her still haunting him. Her taste, lingering in his mouth, her perfume sticking to his clothes.

 _Don't get a head of yourself. Just ride it out_. He pulls into his parking garage just as the numbers on his dash trip over to two am. He backs into his parking spot, in between his other expensive toys, and shuts off the engine. He sits for a moment, turning his head toward her, just looking over her like he's never going to see her again. He gets out, moving to her side to collect her again, and walks them slowly to the elevator. Rick leans against the back of the box as it pulls them up to his floor. He walks them straight to his bedroom, lying her down in his plush bed, stripping her down to her just her t shirt and panties before he removes his own clothing and slides in next to her. He curls around her, wrapping that small body of hers into him, and stares as the opposite wall.

 _Nobody knows. Just you and Lori._


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank the Lord above for weekends! I have a rough two weeks, lol, but sleeping in until almost noon for the past two days has done wonders. Sorry again for the delay, but hopefully this makes up for it! As I mentioned on tumblr, things are going to be picking up from here on out. We've got a lot of Carl/Lori/Shane/Andre to dive into and this is just the start. So, I hope you enjoy! The soundtrack has also been updated, you can find the link on my tumblr. If you don't care about the playlist, I just want you to know that Pearls and Jezebel by Sade were the inspiration for this chapter. Two very powerful songs that fit perfectly (in my mind) into this situation. Give 'em a listen if you haven't already. Alright, enough rambling! Happy reading! I look forward to hearing your thoughts about this chapter! - B**

* * *

 **Seventeen.**

Carol stares at the image before her on her computer screen before she darts her eyes toward the old, tattered picture between her fingers. Lori fucking Grimes. She honestly cannot believe that this country bumpkin has managed to elude her for _this_ long. Beneath those deep brown eyes, she can see that Lori is every bit as cunning as the next woman, but seventeen years on the lamb? Skirting through multiple police districts and states, constantly changing appearances all the while trying to raise a child? That takes know how. That takes know how and _balls_ ; and one seedy cop. Like the one she skipped town with. Cops have connections, deep, dark connections some times and one Shane Walsh was no stranger to deep and dark.

She flicks her eyes back toward her computer screen. She stares at the last known picture of Carl Hayes' mother, Isabelle Vineyard. Carol cocks her head to the side, sighing loudly. Her face is thinner than Lori's, her hair blonde, while Lori's was strikingly dark. Her eyes green, while Lori's brown, her lips full while Lori's thin. To the untrained eye, you'd say this is just Isabelle Vineyard, born to George and Martha Vineyard in Santa Barbara California. To Carol? Something about this woman has hauntings of Lori Grimes. The differences are plenty, but their similarities… the similarities are _intriguing_. They could be related. Hell, they could be sisters. This, very well could be a fake picture, belonging to an even faker drivers license, belonging to the criminal that is Lori Grimes.

Dying your hair blonde and buying some cheap green contacts is nothing. At a glance, you'd fall for this if Lori handed this id to you. Even in person, if the sun hit her just right, as it usually does, and you blink right at the perfect time, like people usually do, you'd never think twice. That's how she knows. Carol just _knows_ something is up with this Isabelle fucking Vineyard. Carol hasn't had a decent nights' sleep since she last spoke to Rick a few days back. Her mind has been all jumbled up. Her spidey sense is tingling and she will not ignore that sense again. Not like last time.

Carol drops the picture and lets out an exasperated breath. They were so close a few years ago. Carol knew, she just fucking _knew_ that that was Lori that passed her on the street that day. Same blonde hair, same green eyes, just like this stupid picture in front of her now. She even turned back to gaze at the woman, that hair flowing in the wind as she dug in her purse, her head down as she put space in between herself and the Special Agent. But Carol ignored the feeling, turned back, and continued toward the possible work place of 'Samantha Gatto', which turned out to be one of many aliases. A tip that came through over the tip line from an anonymous caller. _She just left, you probably passed her on the street,_ the manager of the library chimed happily. Carol's stomach hit the fucking floor. By the time she hit the pavement again, Lori's ghost was long gone and every lead they had, went cold.

A year after that, they'd found a boy. A boy named Carl. A boy named Carl whose birthday was June 17th. A boy named Carl, whose birthday was June 17th, who was born in Atlanta. They had even flown Rick out to the small Texas town. They just _knew_ it was his Carl. When it turned out not to be, Rick was… broken. Every ounce of faith he had in Carol, in the bureau, was gone. She remembered their somber flight home, Rick just staring out the window, into nothing. He wasn't the same after that. He still isn't. Carol rubs her forehead furiously with her fingers, closing her eyes as she sucks on her teeth. That's why he doesn't want to check out this Carl Hayes, he doesn't even want to see him. He can't go through that again. Not again. But something is nagging her. Even though he doesn't want her dig into this Carl Hayes any further, something is nagging at Carol Peletier. She owes Rick Grimes something, anything.

Why are his files sealed? That's strange for anyone, let alone for an eighteen-year-old boy. _Unless he was adopted?_ She wonders, clicking off of the picture of the woman and dragging his birth certificate to the forefront. She examines it for a minute, before tapping on another program to try and find anything she can on him. Nope, definitely not adopted. She scans over the birth certificate once more, nothing sticking out as illegitimate until… The short haired woman sits up a little straighter in her seat, squinting her eyes as her presses her face damn near into the screen of her iMac. She eyes the signature of the Director of Public Health, turning her head to the side again like a dog alerting to a noise.

Most of these signatures are a stamp, what Director of Public Health has the time to actually sign birth certificates? But this is… it looks too _clean_ to be a stamp. She then shoots her eyes to the corner of her office as her mind begins to work. _Why are the hospital records sealed, but not the birth certificate?_ Maybe if you're trying to _prove_ that said person really is said person… but why would a mother have to convince people that this is her son? A son born July 17th, 1999 in Long Beach, California. _Why?_

She slams her back into her leather chair, her eyes wide as she stares at the wall in front of her. Her breaths are calm and even as her mind continues to work in overdrive. She picks up her phone and presses it to her ear, dialing her superiors number, "This is?" The gruff voice answers after three rings.

"Peletier."

"And?"

"I need a warrant sir."

"For?"

"The Grimes case."

The gruff voice goes silent for a second and Carol's eyes dart around the room, "You found something?"

"Maybe."

He goes silent again before, "Enlighten me."

Carol doesn't miss a beat, "Carl Hayes, employed in Atlanta Georgia, born to Isabelle Vineyard in Long Beach California. His hospital records are sealed, but the birth certificate is not."

"Go on." The gruff voice implores.

"I'm sending the pdf of the birth certificate to you, notice the signature of the of the Department of Health officer. Seems like it almost signed by hand."

The gruff voice receives her file and immediately zooms in on the signature, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose before he leans in to inspect it. She's right, does seem awfully _neat_. There's no extra ink, implying that it's a stamp, no smudges, no small imperfection like most stamps have; it's damn near a perfect signature. But, that doesn't mean it isn't legit, "Could be a reissue, maybe an adoption?"

"Adoptions require paperwork and I can't find any. Which leads me to question-"

"Why the birth certificate wasn't sealed with the rest of the hospital records." The gruff voice answers, "You got all of this off of a possible signature?"

"If it's a fraud, it'll lead us to the who issued it, which could lead us to who wanted it issued, which could lead us to Carl." She shrugs, "That's what you pay me for, isn't it?"

He smirks, "You need a warrant to dig into the sealed information." He states, rather than questions.

"And one to have this signature analyzed by an expert."

He thinks for a moment. She's usually pretty spot on with her hunches but this is a giant hunch, and stretch. But, what's the harm? It is a seventeen year old cold case, "Granted. They'll be issued within twenty four hours."

"I can notify the California registrar?"

"You may. Anything else?"

"No sir. Thank you."

The line goes dead. She slams her fingers on the hook and releases it a moment later, hearing the dial tone once more. She taps her thin fingers over the keys, locating the needed phone number. She keeps her eyes on the screen as her fingers dial the number.

"Long Beach registar."

"This is Special Agent Carol Peletier, I need your manager please."

* * *

Lori sweeps her newly dyed blonde hair over her shoulder, letting out a slight huff as she stands up straight. She's still not used to the length. It stops, just past her shoulders. You'd think after all of these years, and all of these get ups, it wouldn't bother her as much. She never liked the blonde anyway, it washed her out something horrible. She's abused her hair so much over the last seventeen years, it's stringy and hay-like now. Nothing like it used to be. She missed her dark, hip length, tresses. Running her fingers through it as the Georgia breeze whipped it around her face. The bright sun would accentuate the lighter brown strands throughout her crown, making her glow like some sort of goddess. Oh, to be young again.

She grabs the laundry basket and rests it against her hip, her bare feet carrying her down the hallway of the small, old house. She stops by Judith's room first, dropping the basket to the bed and opening her drawer to put away a pair of her shorts and a few t shirts. She straightens up the bed and blankets before fluffing the sixteen year olds pillows. She stands up straight again, about to grab the laundry basket as a picture grabs her attention. It's a picture of Judith and Carl, all smiles, as they stand in front of the Universal Studios sign. A last ditch effort of Lori and Shane's to lift their spirits about the move to Atlanta. She runs a finger down the glass. Her babies are all grown up.

A sadness fills her chest as she takes a deep breath, studying her children's features. Those smiles. To this day, they remind her of _his_. That's what she loved about him so; that bright, toothy smile. How his eyes would crinkle at the sides as that smile illuminated the deep blue hue of them. Carl always looks like her, with faint traces of him, but Judith? She's a spitting image of the man. Her father. Shane still denies it. _There's no way he's her father, Lori. Baby, there's no way._ But Lori knows. She'd carried one of his children already, she knew what that felt like. Having a piece of him, growing inside of her. She buried the doubt and instead, tried to believe Shane. But, she can't deny it anymore and deep down instead, Shane can't either.

She sets the picture back down on the shelf and turns slowly, resting the laundry basket on her hip again and closing the bedroom door behind her. She pads down the hallway and pushes through the door to her sons bedroom. She sighs a little as she eyes the mess that the tornado has left behind. That is one thing Carl inherited from her; her messiness. _He_ was always so neat and clean. There was a spot for everything. It used to drive her insane. But now, after all of this time, she realizes that she misses that. His cleanliness. His seriousness. His grown up persona. It was boring back then, when she was barely twenty one. It's a necessity now. A necessity that she's afraid she'll never have again. Lori huffs again, letting the memories of _him_ fade as she starts her clean up mission.

After what seems like an hour, the room is livable again. She can actually see the floor and she successfully separated his clean and dirty clothes. She moves to the laundry basket, pulling open his drawer to toss his t shirts inside. She moves to his nightstand, rearranging his socks and boxers before she lays the clean articles of clothing on top. She pulls open the bottom drawer and rolls hers eyes at the disarray of his undershirts. She pulls them all out and tosses them to the bed as a tattered, old picture flutters to the floor. She reaches down for it, her thin fingers stopping abruptly as her eyes zero in on the memory.

She picks it up slowly as her mouth drops open. Her eyes instantly water over as she brings it up to her face, her free hand resting on her chest. Carl is exactly one year old in the picture but a proud smile covers his chubby little face. He holds up his finger as his party hat sits on top his head, birthday streamers and banners behind him. _He_ smirks back at the camera as he holds his little boy. His hat is on backwards, covering his newly cut short hair. She was so pissed off at him that day, she barely spoke to him during the party. She loved that long, curly hair of his. They fought all morning about that stupid haircut but it was something much deeper to her. He was _changing_ , and she didn't like it. He didn't want to stay out all night anymore. He didn't want to drink himself in an oblivion anymore. He didn't want to waste their money on concert tickets, or drive to Florida on a whim, or smoke weed. They had a child now. They were married now. Time to grow up.

Problem was, she didn't want to grow up. She was young damn it, having a kid and being married shouldn't change that, should it? Shane didn't want to change either. That's why, at first, she thought it was a match made in heaven. She had chosen the wrong friend. Or so she thought back then. Her eyes scan over the picture and she remembered why she had chosen _him_. His dark jeans hugged him perfectly, his plain white t shirt accentuating his firm upper body. God, he was beautiful, always had been, from the time they'd met on the playground in kindergarten.

He was a sweet boy, but he had a side to him. A mischievous, dark, intense side that he only showed her when no one was around. That's why she was hooked on him, hung onto his every word, followed him around like a lost puppy. Her eyes glowed for him and him only. Her fifteenth summer cemented her love, lust, and desire for him. They'd been having sex for a while and it was great, it really was but that hot summer day, it was just him and her in her grandmothers old house. _You wanna try something?_ His voice was soft but full of mischief, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight. She obliged, nodding her head as her dark eyes followed him as he moved to her closet. He emerged a minute later, with a pair of her black stockings. _Lay back babe._

She obeyed him without hesitation, probably how his kink for domination grew to what it ultimately became. He lifted her arms over her head and tied her hands together slowly, flicking his eyes down to her wide ones every now and again. He then tied her to the metal headboard, a sharp gasp escaping her. _What are you doing?_ He eyed her like he usually did, slowly, wandering over her nose, her lips, her chin, her neck, then back up to her brown eyes. _Just trust me._ Trust him, she did. His weight on her as he dug his hips into hers, him sucking on her neck, biting her shoulder, mixed with her not being able to _move_ , thrilled her like nothing had ever before. It was the first of many orgasms for her that summer and for years to come. He grew more confident in his play, his bedroom nature becoming more dominant as he came into his own.

She was there for all of it.

She remembered walking through the halls of their high school, caught in a constant day dream of him. They'd eye each other as they passed each other in the hallway, her with her friends, him with his. Just his eyes on her could make her quake in her tight jeans back then. They shared a dark secret, and it fueled a passionate, deep fire for him. She was his. _Who am I baby? Huh? Tell me baby, who am I baby?_ He'd whisper in her ear as he rocked into her from behind, her hands tied behind her back. _You're my daddy baby. You're my daddy._ But then, everything started to change. Slowly, his need to control her faded, his kink over took him less and less. He didn't want to wake Carl. He had to get up early. He had had a long day at work.

He grew up. Right in front of her, he became a man. A man that wanted to provide for his family. A man that loved his wife, that wanted the best for her and their young son. She understood that now. Not back then. So, her anger grew to heights unknown to him. She screamed and yelled, demeaned him, emasculated him at every chance. He never knew why. He did his best for her and by her. She drove a new car while he stayed in his fathers old truck. She got her hair and nails done every Saturday morning while he groomed himself to save money. He didn't get it. He was doing his damn best and she still found a reason to scream at him, to be angry with him. Then Shane came by one day while Rick was at the construction site.

She confessed her soul to him that afternoon, how frustrated she was, how boring her husband had become, both in general and specifically in the bedroom. Shane understood her completely, noticing the changes in his friend as well. He leaned in and kissed her suddenly, gripping her face with his two strong hands. He bent her over their kitchen counter as _his_ son lay in his crib a mere ten feet away. There was no going back after that. Lori stares down at the picture in between her thin fingers. She found out she was pregnant a month after this was taken, sure that it was Shane's. Rick came home to an empty house two months to the day after this picture was taken. It was like Lori and Carl had never even existed.

Seventeen years later, here she is, back home in Georgia, with two children who don't know why they pinch the bridge of their nose when their upset. Who don't know why they squint their eyes when they're naturally suspicious of something. She's the mother to a daughter who doesn't know there's a man out there that shares her nose, her mouth, her eyes, her serious nature. She's the mother to a son who doesn't know there's a man out there that's been looking for him for seventeen years. They don't know anything about themselves, and she has no one to blame for that fact than herself. She cheated them. She hates herself for that. A single tear drops down her cheek and she brushes it away with the tips of her fingers. She rubs at her lips slowly, wetting them with her emotion. The guilt swells in her chest something awful. She cheated them. All of them.

Shane watches her from the hallway, his eyes dark, his head tilted slightly. He can't see what she's looking at but whatever it is is a reminder of _him_ , "Lori?"

She jumps slightly, glancing behind her quickly before wiping at her face and bending toward Carl's clothes, "Hey babe. You're home early."

He steps into the room, his mouth open as he squints his eyes at her, "Everythin' okay?"

"Yeah." She smiles falsely, shaking her head as she tries to hide the picture back into the drawer, "Everything is fine, why?"

He moves toward her, his body language bordering on menacing as he steps past her, "What were you looking at?" He asks, peering into the open drawer.

"Nothing. I was just putting his clothes away." He begins rifling through the drawer, tossing Carl's shirts around, "Shane, stop. Stop!"

He grabs the picture and lifts it up to his eye line, his dark eyes zeroing in on his old friend and his boy. He runs his large hand over his shaved head and drops it heavily to his side, "Why does he have this?" He asks lowly, his head falling.

Lori stares at his back, her eyes watery, "I don't know." She whispers.

"Where did he get it from?"

"I don't know." She says firmly, sensing his irritation, "He found it obviously."

Shane turns to face his wife. She's still as beautiful to him as she was that day on the playground but this life has taken its toll on her. She stares back at him with something in her eyes, something that he can't really put his finger on. Hate? Disdain? Frustration? Whatever it is, it's been there for a long time, "You had it Lori. You had to of."

He's right. That was the only thing she left behind all those years ago, their picture albums. Except for this one picture; of _him_ and his boy. Maybe, because she wanted to hate herself forever. Maybe, she didn't want to live happily ever after, after all. Because she didn't deserve it. Not after the things that she had done. When exactly Carl found the picture, she isn't sure, but she knew he had it. She had found it in his closet years before and questioned him about it. He turned the tables on her though, as he usually did, and began asking her questions. She explained his father away, saying the man in the picture was just a neighbor that used to watch him for her while she was at work. He seemed content with her answer back then. She hadn't realized that he kept it. There had to be a reason why he kept it. Maybe he sees the resemblance now. Maybe he's questioning things, his life, Shane, her. He's a smart a boy.

"And?" She answers defiantly.

"Why? We've worked too hard to make a new life for us Lori."

She snatches the picture from him and throws it back into Carl's drawer, slamming it closed with her knee, "Drop it, alright? I'm not going to do this."

She grabs the laundry basket and storms out of the room, hearing his heavy footsteps behind her as they move through the house, "Why did you keep it Lori?" He questions, "Tell me. Why?"

"Why does it matter?" She hollers finally, whirling around to face him, "Maybe I need a reminder."

"A reminder of what?" He screams back with his hands on his hip, "You miss him?"

She scoffs loudly as she rolls her eyes back at him, "All these years later and you're still jealous of him. That's pathetic."

"No," He bites back, pointing his finger in her face, "You're pathetic. You made your choice, don't you act like I forced you into this. Like I held a gun to your head or somethin'."

"Did I say that?" Her dark eyes bounce back and forth between his as her voice raises, "Just because _we_ made a choice, doesn't mean that we don't have to feel good about it!"

He shifts his weight from foot to foot as his hands fall back to his hips. He drops his head again, taking deep breathes through his mouth, "Where is all of this coming from all of a sudden? Hmm? You're the one that wanted to come back here! You are the one that begged to come back to Atlanta!"

"Yeah, because I missed being home. Is that a fucking crime now?"

"There are a lot of memories here," He says quietly as he blinks, trying to keep his own fleeting thoughts at bay.

She stares at him as he avoids her eyes. She knows he feels it too. He loved that man almost as much as she did. And, just as it eats away at her, it eats away at him too. Especially since this, whatever it was between them, is nonexistent now. They fight more than they get along anymore. They gave _him_ up for nothing, it seems. For a few good years of partying and sex, just to be left with a lifetime full of guilt and regret. He'd never say it, but Shane misses his friend. He misses the old times. The lazy summer days when they'd meet up after work and down a few beers as they leaned against _his_ old, beat up truck. Wasting their days in Shane's fishing boat, not catching a damn thing but a cold. Hell, that was so long ago. If only he could go back, if they could both just go back to that afternoon in the kitchen. He'd change things. He would. He'd just leave. Or, he'd pat her on the back and tell her to give _him_ a break. He'd tell her that things would be okay between them, his two best friends.

That's why Shane didn't want to come back here. He didn't want to have to live with the things that he had done to his best friend, "You can't even say his name." She spits at him, her voice low, her eyes narrowed at him, "Which means, you don't feel so good about it either. No matter how hard to you try, you will never be their father. Ever. Don't you think we've done enough? Hmm?" She tilts her head to the side, "Don't you think we've caused enough damage, pulling them out of school, running them from state to state, never letting them settle in. I wanted to come home, Shane. I wanted to bring my babies back home."

"This isn't a game, Lori. What if we get caught? We're criminals, you realize that, right? We kidnapped Carl, don't forget that."

She shakes her head, "I won't ever forget that. Not until my dying day. I'm not going to run anymore, Shane." She shrugs, "I'm done, I am so done. Whatever happens, will happen, regardless of how hard we try to out run it. We owe them this." She picks up the hamper and takes a few steps away from him, heading toward their bedroom, "He is their father, Shane. If he finds us, if he finds them, he deserves it. He deserves them just as much as they deserve him."

She walks away from him and into their bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Shane stands in the hallway, staring at the floor for what seems like an eternity. He knows she's right. He knows why she wanted to come home and why he didn't fight it. She wants to be caught. She wants it to be over, "Yeah," he says to himself, finally moving out of the hallway and toward the garage, "I know he does."

* * *

Carl pulls open the screen door before he pushes on the front door, opening it quietly. Night has fallen over Georgia. The moon is high in the sky, the stars twinkling as they light up the dark space. His house is quiet, his parents long since retired for the evening. He walks into the kitchen, where a handwritten note from his mom lays on the kitchen table. _Dinner's in the oven – XOXO._ He opens the door and pulls out the foil covered plate. He pops it in the microwave and grabs a soda from the fridge, retrieving his food after a minute and makes his way into his room.

He plops on his bed and eats quietly, his earphones still in his ears as he listen to his favorite podcast. Once he's finished, he pushes the plate on top of his nightstand and strips down to his boxers before he falls back on the bed again. He stares up at the ceiling as the voices in his ears fade and the voices in his head crank up. He's nervous. He's been nervous for a few months now. He's about to be a high school graduate in a few short weeks. What's he gonna do then? College? Get a real job? Travel the world? He takes a deep breath. He's not ready for all of this heavy shit.

He knows he doesn't want to leave his mom or Judith. His baby sister will be seventeen soon enough but they're as thick as thieves. She needs her big brother. His mom has been, strange lately, although she tries to deny it. Something's been different about her since they moved to Georgia. She was usually a high strung woman, constantly looking over her shoulder, trusting no one. But this is different. She seems, relaxed almost, if that's the right word. She seems like for the first time in a long time, she can breathe. He knows the feeling.

Carl never felt safe; never felt settled. He always felt like he was missing something, he just didn't know what. Moving to Georgia just made that feeling worse because it didn't feel like all of the other times they moved. Instead of him feeling strange in this new state, he felt like he'd been here before. Like he knew these streets. He felt like he had come home, and he didn't know why. Judith was pissed, California was her home. Not Carl though, something just wasn't right there. Or in Texas, or Kansas, or Oregon, or Utah, or Arizona. It just wasn't _right_. His mom used to tell him that he was a rolling stone. He wished that were really it.

He turns and pulls open his bottom drawer, rifling through the freshly washed shirts and pulls out the old picture. He sweeps his long hair out of his face and lets out another breath as his eyes roam over the picture. This guy. This smirking guy with the backwards cap. Who is this guy? Carl has wondered for years, ever since he found the picture in his moms' suitcase. Whoever it is, seems happy. He seems like he has a close relationship with Carls' toddler self. His mom told him that the guy was just a neighbor that used to watch him everyday until either herself or Shane could get home. He bought that at first, but after a while, it nagged at him. It doesn't feel like this guy was just a babysitter, you can tell on his face that baby Carl _knew_ this man.

Carl knew that Shane wasn't his father. His dad, his real dad, died in a car accident when Carl was just six months old. Maybe this guy was his dad's brother or cousin or friend. Something. This guy was something to either Carl or his father and he wanted to know. He's a few weeks from being a man. A man should know who he is, where he comes from, what makes him. Carl has no answers. He wanted to ask his mother, but every time he even broached the subject, she made sure to change it. He just stopped after a while, tired of getting the runaround from her and Shane. But, as soon as they stepped into Georgia, the questions were back. Him wanting to know who he really was, was back and he was going to get some answers, one way or another. Not that he knew where to start, though.

King county, his mother's birth place could be a start. Somebody had to know his father or his side of the family down there. They could lead him in the direction he needed to go. He just needed a car. He's a few months from it. He's been cashing his checks and shoving the money under his mattress since he first started working for Michonne. He is almost there. He's just got to keep his head down and make it through the summer. Then, he'll know what to do with himself. As soon as he _finds_ himself.

He gazes back at the picture, his eyes roaming over the smirking stranger. They kinda look a like, now that he thinks about. Not obviously, but there's traces of… _something_ that makes him feel like they look alike. He's just gotta find this guy or, somebody who knows this guy. All in due time. He tucks the picture away, making sure it's well hidden under his shirts and rolls over to his side, grabbing his phone again to turn on some music. He rolls back over onto his back, flattening his palm over his chest and closes his eyes for the last time of the day. His dreams are full of the smirking man and his backwards facing hat.

 _Happy birthday buddy, the smirker smiles widely, kissing the side of the young boys' face. I love you_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Let me begin by apologizing immensely! I'm so sorry this took so long! I usually write a few chapters ahead of myself so that I'll always have something to upload in case I hit a patch like this, but I caught up to myself and... yeah. I'm sorry! Hopefully, this chapter makes up for it! It's got a little sub training, a little sex, and a little suspense at the end. Things are definitely picking up and in my opinion, we are starting to get to the good stuff! If you're following the soundtrack, it has also been updated! Thanks for sticking with me guys and for all of your kind words! I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Eighteen.**

"Good girl."

His voice is low and soft, a smirk playing on his lips as he walks into his lavish apartment to find his pride and joy kneeling by the elevator door. He holds out his hand to her, "Come."

Michonne places her smaller hand into his and stands slowly, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted as the smallest smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. They've been training for a few weeks and she is absolutely obsessed. The perfectionist in her is pegged at a thousand. Her inquisitive nature is quenched as he opens her up into the traditional world of BDSM. Her hunger for research is also satisfied by his mastery of this craft. She could listen to him for days on end as he explains his rules, his wants, his needs. She enjoys his hands on her body, twisting and turning her, positioning her as he wants her so she'll understand. She loves the juxtaposition of his rough sex against the soft, soothing nature that he uses to teach her.

Rick looks her over as she stands, licking his bottom lip as he sucks his teeth. She's in nothing but her tool and silk Demelza bra and panties with matching stockings. Her pretty, manicured feet are covered in her brand-new Giuseppe Harmony heels; a present for her doing so well in her training yesterday. He pulls her further into the apartment and toward the kitchen, the sound of her heels clicking against his marble floor causing his excitement to get her into bed to grow. But, all in due time. He drops her hand and allows her to walk around him. A growl scratches at the back of his throat as his eyes fall to her round, plentiful behind. He tilts his head to the side as he moves behind her, watching her flesh bounce and ripple as those hips sway back and forth.

He is a lucky, _lucky_ man.

The two of them part as they enter the spacious kitchen. She moves behind the bar to gather the wine, him removing his jacket before he sits at his six-person table. He takes a deep breath and settles his bright blue eyes on her as she emerges from behind the bar. Her hair is swept into a bun, a favorite style of his, with a few loose strands bouncing against her shoulder blades. She's also wearing her dark rimmed Ray Ban glasses – an occupational hazard you see. She's managed to lose her contacts somewhere in this apartment. She believes that the shower sex two mornings ago was the culprit. He had her bent over, slamming into her with all the force he could muster, his hand gripping and pulling her hair, the water in her face… _goddamn_. She doesn't even care. Contacts, glasses, blind as a bat, she's still here, learning and growing and fucking and living.

She keeps her eyes on his as she clicks back to him. She moves to his side, handing him the wine bottle to have him pop the cork, "Thank you Sir." She coos as he hands it back. She pours his wine slowly and hands it to him before sitting the bottle in the middle of the table and moving back into the kitchen.

She returns seconds later, placing the random items of their dinner in the middle of table, the lamb still sizzling on the wooden cutting board. She grabs one of the square, black plates and begins loading it with food. Steamed carrots doused in olive oil, baby potatoes peppered with garlic chives, a side salad, and her braised lamb. She saunters toward him and places the plate in front of him, unwrapping his silverware from the thick napkin to hand it to him. She leans across him, a broad smile covering his face at the closeness of her. She cuts his lamb, just how he likes it, and stifles the giggle that threatens to erupt as he rubs his nose against her arm.

"You smell so good baby." He whispers, nipping at her flesh as his hands curve around her backside to palm her.

"Thank you, Sir." She states coolly, trying to keep her very cool as his fingers roam around her.

He's never this touchy, especially in training. This is when they learn his expectations. This is how they learn to control themselves around him. A sub can't when and what to do if he's constantly pawing at her. Rick likes to keep his worlds as separate as possible. There's a time and place for touchy. Not with his woman though, oh no. He'll take any chance he can to run his hands along that tight, toned, supply body. He's fantasized about her all fucking day. He slips his fingers in between her legs as she butters his roll and she jumps slightly, closing her eyes as she clears her throat. Hell, he'll play it off as a test. Anything, so he can just keep touching her.

He smirks again and bites his bottom lip as he looks at the side of her face. He dips his fingers into her thong and right in between her folds, taking another deep breath as her body tenses. She bites her lip and lets out a breath as she finishes with his plate – he's testing her. He likes to feel her, yes, but rule number one to being a good sub is _control_. Control of her emotions, her mouth, her body, her sex, her orgasms, her thoughts. She must be ready for anything and everything, but only when _he's_ ready.

"Sir." She lets out breathlessly, her eyes becoming hooded as he strokes her.

"Very good," He commends her, glancing down at his freshly cut lamb and buttered roll, "This looks delicious Michonne, thank you."

His fingers don't stop as he compliments her. She stands straight and he tilts his head up to watch her as he wraps his free arm around her waist. He pushes two fingers into her suddenly and she steadies herself by placing her hand on his shoulder, "Fuck, I love how wet you get baby." He coos, shifting in his seat as his dick grows harder by the second, "I love how warm you are."

"Thank you, Sir." She whispers, squeezing his shoulder as the pressure within her stomach grows.

He chuckles with delight as that sweet _thank you sir_ hit his ears. He withdraws from her body and places his hands on either side of her hips, pulling her into him so he can pepper her skin with soft, warm kisses. She smiles widely but resists the urge to run her fingers through his hair – _only touch me when I instruct you to_. He pulls away from her after a few more kisses and tilts his head up toward her again, "Give me a kiss."

She leans down with no hesitation and fulfils his request with fervor. Their tongues dance with one another as the kiss deepens and their lips smack loudly as they devour each other. He pulls away from her, his lips swollen and pink, and watches her as she moves away from him to make her plate. She sits at the other end of the table and waits for him to take his first bite before she digs in. He does love a woman with a healthy appetite. They eye each other as they eat in silence, their sexual tension filling the room as the sounds of their forks and knives sliding against the black porcelain plates can be heard. Rick slices another piece of lamb slowly, carefully, before popping it into his mouth. He drags his eyes up to her again as he crosses his knife and fork in his hands, over his plate. She's just as theatrical with her silverware. She presses the expensive fork into a steamed carrot and brings it to her lips slowly. She keeps her deep eyes on his as she wraps her mouth around the morsel, biting down and sliding the fork along her teeth as she pulls it back. She rests her elbow on against the arm of her chair and lets her wrist go limp as she clutches her utensil, a smirk on her face all the while.

Two fancy people having a fancy dinner.

Michonne minds her manners as they eat, knowing that Rick is paying close attention to see if she is honestly minding his tutelage. She keeps her eyes on him constantly, offering him another glass of wine or another scoop of potatoes before she treats herself. Her posture is pristine, she only speaks when she's spoken to, and once she's finished, she keeps her hands flat on the table, _waiting_ for him. Holy hell, formal training was such a good idea; and such a turn on. He can't even take it anymore. His fingers, well, his dick mainly, are itching for her warmth, her abyss. He knew what he wanted to do to her as soon as his eyes opened that morning. He couldn't wait to get home from work as thoughts of him spreading her over his custom, Italian, hand carved dining room table sprang to mind. But first, he just wants to look at her for a while.

"That was a fine meal, Ms. Moreau."

"Thank you, Sir." She beams, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Are you ready for dessert?"

She stands but he holds up his hand and she stops instantly. He smiles widely. God, she's good. He stands and moves toward her, taking her hand to move her a few steps over to the table length bench. He lets her sit once more, this time facing him, and he starts to undo his tie. He pulls it slowly from around his neck, tilting his head a little as he watches her. He motions for her wrists and she supplies them quickly, holding them out for him just in front of her body as her eyes drop down to his hands. He ties her wrists together with his simple, slim, black tie, flicking his eyes up at her every so often. He finishes his intricate knot and leans back a little, watching as she lowers her now bound wrists to her lap. She stares at him with an intensity that makes his very soul burn. A soft, yet playful smirk tugs at her lips as she blinks slowly behind her dark rimmed glasses.

"Michonne?" He coos, his fingers dancing along her long legs, cupping her calves before they move down to her ankles, and then back up to her thighs.

"Yes Daddy?"

Rick bites his lip, "Did you think about me today?" He asks in a chirpy voice, tilting his head as his grin grows.

She can't help but beam again, putting her pretty, white teeth on full display, "Yes Daddy."

He flattens his palms on her thighs and squeezes, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of her flesh in his large hands before they dip around and back down to her knees and calves. He leans up suddenly, planting his lips on the exposed skin of her stomach before he bites down. She jerks and he chuckles against her, sending a vibration through her. His pink tongue sneaks out from behind those devilish lips as he licks at her, before sucking down on more of her skin as he inhales through his nose loudly. Michonne keeps her hands splayed on her lap but her eyes flutter as the pangs of lust are set loose within her. She resists the urge to moan – another lesson in self-control. She's not so good at this part. Over the past week, she's earned herself a few punishments, including a five-hundred-word essay on the definition of control, a half hour of being blindfolded and left alone in his spare room, and yet another orgasm denial. She took it all in stride, like a big girl (and secretly grateful that they were nothing like his first punishment session).

Rick moves his skilled tongue and lips up between her breasts and to her neck where he bites down again. His hands palm her breasts before he pushes the material away, exposing her to him fully. He nibbles at her earlobe as he tweaks her nipple and hears not a sound from her. Not a groan, not a grunt, not even an exhale. She's even learning to control her _breathing_. She catches herself as her heart rate quickens and she closes her eyes to center herself. She stays as cool and collected as if she's sitting in a business meeting and not being sucked on like a Georgia peach. He's so proud. Rick leans back and shifts his eyes between hers as he bestows the brightest of smiles to her. He cups the sides of her face, his fingers digging into her luxurious hair and kisses her sweetly on her lips, "You are so damn good, girl." He bops her on her nose with his index finger, causing her to scrunch her face cutely, "You've earned another present."

Golden rule– _always_ reward good behavior.

"Thank you, Sir."

"What would you like?" He asks softly as he wraps one of her wayward locs around his finger. She thinks for a minute, squinting her eyes and looking toward the ceiling. Her behavior draws a chuckle from him, "I like these glasses by the way. Have I mentioned that?"

"Yes Sir, you have." She giggles, "Many times."

He kisses her again, he just can't resist, "Any ideas yet?"

"I can have anything, Sir?"

He nods slowly, "Anything baby."

She bites her bottom lip pensively, dropping her eyes away from him before she flicks them back up to his. The innocence that just inhabited her is suddenly gone; her eyes filled with a dark need, "A spanking." She whispers, her voice low and airy but concise and confident.

He's turned this little book worm in a raging freak.

Hallelujah.

He exhales slowly but happily, a soft moan accompanying the air as it leaves his lungs. He takes her hand and stands, pulling her up with him. He sits down on the bench, with his fingers still interlaced with hers loosely. He pulls on her hand suddenly and she falls over her lap, rather gracefully, he notes. She lands with a soft, feminine 'ooh' but she smiles as the excitement bubbles in her stomach. Rick hands instantly start a slow massage on her backside as she pokes it out. She wiggles seductively against him, biting her lip again as she turns her head to the side to eye him.

"Five spanks, Ms. Moreau?"

"Mmm," she hums, "Better make it ten, Sir."

"Oooh," Rick sings as he squeezes her behind softly, "That's my girl. Count with me."

He lets his hands dip down to her thighs before he smacks her suddenly and without warning. She lunges forward and lets out a loud, pleasure filled groan, "One, Daddy."

"That's right girl, let me hear you."

He rubs her behind again sweetly and tilts his head to truly enjoy the view. He smacks her again and she squeals, dropping her head as she moans, "Fuck. Two."

He smacks her again before she can recover, "You like that baby?"

She balls her still bound fists as she feels his erection growing against her stomach, "I love it Daddy. Three, Sir."

"Say it again." He urges, his voice full and stern.

"Say what again, Sir?" She pants.

He spanks her again, this time, much harder than his previous three strikes, "Oh God!" She lets out as she slams her eyes shut and her mouth falls open.

"Say you love it." He whispers, his own breath heavy as his head begins to swim in arousal.

He spanks her again. The sound of his skin against hers bounces off the marble floor and fills the room, adding to the lust and heady need. Michonne can't even breath she's so turned on. Who would have known that spankings are actual heaven?

"I love it. I love it Daddy." She proclaims, "I love your spankings, Sir. I love your hands on me."

"Mmm." He spanks her again, "Where are we, Ms. Moreau?"

"Six." She spurts out, her eyes fluttering as her labored breath rushes in and out through her mouth, "Six, Daddy."

He takes a few moments before he spanks her again, taking his time to massage her skin again. She feels so good; he can't get over how good she feels against him but his thoughts turn dark on a dime. He can't wait to bury his nose in between those ass cheeks. He better make this quick. Lashes seven, eight, nine, ten, come quickly and with no mercy. They are hard and fast and Michonne feels like she's drunk by the end of it. Her vision is blurred, her head is spinning, her breath heavy as he pulls her back up onto the bench. He positions her quickly, her knees on the bench as she rests her elbows on the table.

Rick clicks his tongue at her, "Hands flat ma'am." He warns.

She lowers her forearms to the table and splays her fingers against the cool surface as the knot in his tie begins to loosen from the force of her grinding and rubbing her wrists and hands together. Rick drops to his knees and nuzzles his face right in between her ass. He pulls her panties to the side and slips his tongue into her wet folds and hums as her juices coat his lips. He pulls away from her slightly, running his tongue along his teeth as her sweet taste invades his mouth. He kisses her silky lips and ass, spreading her slightly before he dips in again, this time licking her where she's never been _licked_ before. Her eyes spring open as her body jerks involuntarily at the unfamiliar sensation. Her mind races as his fingers rub against her clit and his flicks his tongue at her.

 _He's in my ass!_ She internally screams as Maggie's voice fills her head. _Girrrrllll, booty play is the_ _best_ _play. You better find you a man that'll eat that fat ass!_

The sensation is strange at first for her and he feels it. Her body is tense and her moans have subsided, but, he gives her time to adjust. His fingers continue their rhythm against her wetness; rolling her nub between his index and middle fingers before he flattens them along the length of her womanhood. He lets his tongue slither down to her folds again. He flicks and sucks and kisses her before he penetrates her with his fingers. He curls his long digits and begins the gentle stroking of her G spot, letting himself relax as she starts to calm down as well. He wraps his free arm around her waist, rising just enough to splatter his lips along her spine and lower back, "You alright, baby?" His voice heavy, deep, and breathless.

"Mmm hmm," She moans, "Yes Sir."

Rick lowers back down, coming eye level with her swollen sex and plump ass once more. He leans into her, pushing in between her flesh again and kisses her right against her forbidden zone. She shudders. He extends his arm and flattens his palm against her back. To relax her. To remind her that he's still there. She's still okay. She's still safe.

"Just relax baby," He mutters into her skin, still stroking her insides and letting his free fingers roam along her back and ass, "Just let go."

She chirrs at his instruction. She rolls her head before letting it sink to the surface of the table. She turns her head to the side, her eyes zeroing in on the bar as her body begins to shake from pure passion and adrenaline. The pressure begins to build in the pit of her stomach as the sexual, electrical current races from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She slams her eyes shut once more as the pangs of her excitement and impending release intensify. Her fingers try to grip the table for some sort of stability as he eats her like a midnight snack. Her voice bounces off the walls and the table and floor as her octaves rise. His fingers quicken inside of her. His tongue crawls from her behind to her saturated lips, then back to swirling around her _other_ place.

The sensation is not so strange anymore.

She lets go.

Just as he instructed.

This is _control_. At its very finest. At its most lovely. In its rawest form. Her orgasm astonishes them both. It's deep, and wild, and intense, and free. Her body tenses harder than he's ever felt from her. The sounds coming from her are almost foreign as her world is rocked. Rick growls against her as his fingers go into overdrive to continue to milk her for as long as her body will let him. His own breath is ragged and audible as he leans back, just wanting to take in this magnificent moment. Her sex tightens around his fingers as she releases, her nectar dripping from her as his erection pushes against his pants. He withdraws his hand from her and rips at his Italian belt, dropping it with a thud to the ground as her body shakes and writhes against the table.

He doesn't even want to invade her; she's too beautiful in this moment. He doesn't want to ruin it, or her for that matter. You see, she's ascended in this moment. She is no longer his queen, but now his deity. His Aphrodite. His Athena. His Eris. He must worship her; not defile her. Not without her permission. He reaches around her as she pants loudly, her orgasm starting to recede back into her depths. He unties her hands and watches as she rolls over onto her back. He keeps his eyes on her as she arches away from the table. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted as she hums and moans, then those teeth sink into that bottom lip. Her slim fingers coast down to her center and she begins a rhythm all her own, not wanting the feeling to end. Her legs fall open, splaying to either side as the back of her hand pushes against her panties as she pleasures herself before him.

"Baby?" He asks quietly, his blues moving slowly up and down her body.

She takes a breath. A quick smile spreads on her face as she closes her legs, then lets them splay again, "Yes Sir?" Her voice soft.

"May I have you?"

Her eyes pop open at the request. Is he… asking _her?_ For _permission_? That's not how this works. Is it? She stares back at him, her fingers stopping as the two of them hold a silent conversation. The switch has flipped. She knows now what Maggie means. _You are the one in control._ The power swells in her chest as Maggie's words wash over her. There was only one other situation in her life that made her feel this way. Stepping into court. Knowing she was going to nail that defendant to the cross. She's back. _I'm back._ She leans up on her elbows, never removing the eye contact from her Daddy. She tilts her head and smiles, all the while swaying her legs back and forth.

"You may, Daddy."

His hands move to her instantly. His fingers curl underneath the rim of her panties and he pulls slowly, gently, pushing them down her long legs. He picks up her left leg, with great care, and pulls the expensive material from her, and then moves to her right leg, slipping the underwear around her Giuseppe heels. He moves right up to her, placing his hands on her knees before her lets them slink down her thighs. He presses at her opening but doesn't puncture her. He just stares at her- wanting that permission again. Michonne nods slowly, biting at the tip of her finger. He pushes into her slowly, savoring the feeling as she stretches for him. He sinks his hands into her waist, his thumbs pressing deep indentions into her warm, thick flesh as the rest of his fingers grip her lower back. His mouth falls open as his hooded eyes cast on her face as he enters her. It's like she's at ease now that he's inside of her. Relaxed. Calm. Impressed. Content. Fulfilled.

He's at her very mercy; and Rick Grimes wouldn't have it any other way.

He fucks her slowly, wanting to just live here. Her fingers go back to their rhythm against her sensitive bud as he moves in her. He never thought a connection like this would be possible again; not since Lori. He'd worked hard at keeping his subs at a distance over the years, sometimes even going for women that weren't his usual type. Anything to keep from feeling like this again. Or so he thought. Now that he has it again, this feeling, he doesn't want to let it go. He won't. He knows that now. He'll do anything to make her understand, to make her realize that this is where she belongs. With him. Together; and more than just, _this_. More than just Dom and sub. He'll tell her how he feels, that he loves her, and that it's okay if she doesn't feel that way right now. He'll do anything and everything to make her love him. He just has to find the right time. The perfect moment.

He dives into her as deeply as he can, letting her body swallow him completely until his lower stomach is flush against her. He pulls out slowly, his head peeking out from her plush center, then disappearing into her depths once more. He feels the pull in his stomach, his muscles tensing as some of his pre-cum coats her walls. He continues his pulse as his body readies for his own orgasm. A grunt scratches at the back of his throat, his eyes closing to slits, his hands gripping her skin for stability. Michonne wonders if he knows how beautiful he is like this. He usually so collected and _cool_. Even. Steady. Not when he's inside of her. Not in these moments. He's just a boy, enjoying his girl. She tightens her walls around his length, lifting slightly from the table below her. She wants him to fill her with his seed, his hot, silky life force. She wants to make him feel as warm, and good, and full as she does.

She wiggles against him, adding to the pressure for him as she rests her hands on his sides. She digs her fingernails into his warm flesh and his body jerks as the sudden pain. But, it adds to pleasure of it all and with a few more strokes, he empties himself into her. It feels good. For him and her. She pulls him down to her and wraps him in her arms as he grunts, his hips jerking as he spurts. His body calms soon enough and they just lay there, breathing in unison, pressed against one another. He leans back after a while and smiles at her sleepy expression.

"Time for a bath?" He asks, pulling her up with him as he stands.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders and rests her head against his chest before she nods, yawning a little, "That sounds perfect. What about the dishes?"

"I'll get them later." She gazes up at him as he moves them up the stairs. She opens her mouth but he cuts her off before she can speak, "Do you want me wash your mouth out with soap again? Don't argue with me, Ms. Moreau." He chuckles slightly.

She shakes her head against him as the memory replays in her mind, "That was so terrible." She laughs with him.

"Don't be so mouthy."

They take their time as they bathe, taking turns in washing each other. Rick wraps her up in one of his soft Frette towels- imported straight from, you guessed it, Italy, and drops her in his bedroom once they're finished. She sits on the edge of the bed and begins to apply her lotion as he moves around, collecting their clothes from the floor and throws them into the hamper, "I'm gonna start the wash okay? Don't start the next episode of Queen Sugar without me, asshole."

She laughs loudly, throwing her head back as she settles underneath the blankets, "Will you let it go already?! I watched one episode without you!"

"That is not loyalty, ma'am." He points at her as she continues to laugh, "You know what, this is coming with me." He says, grabbing the remote.

"Rude." She calls after him as he disappears down the hallway.

The doorbell rings through the apartment as the familiar ding of the elevator reaching his floor sounds just behind it. Michonne pays no attention to it as she grabs her phone, finally seeing the multiple texts and missed calls from Maggie. She scoffs a little, unlocking her phone to read her friends messages, knowing that they are probably nothing but utter nonsense. Maggie can be so damn dramatic sometimes. Her face falls as she reads over the messages. Her eyes cloud with tears as the words blur on the screen. She forgot. How could she forget? How?

She drops the phone to the bed as she pulls her legs up to her chest, her hand flying to her mouth as her chin trembles. She can't stop the flood of emotions that hits her as it sinks in. Four years. It's been four years and she completely forgot. She got so wrapped up in all of this that she actually forgot that tomorrow is… She inhales quickly, to stop the thoughts, but the dam breaks anyway.

"Looks like Maggie is throwing a play party in a few weeks." Ricks starts as he moves toward his room, turning the hand delivered invitations over in his hands, "She sent us both-" He stops as he enters the room, his ears catching her sobs, "What's wrong? Hey, hey, hey." He coos, rushing to her side, "Michonne?"

He reaches out to touch her but she slinks away from him. She doesn't want him to see her this way. She really couldn't stand being touched right now anyway. She can't believe she forgot and over what? A man? Sex? Guilt rushes through her as her blood runs cold. She scurries out of the bed and stands on the opposite side of it, using the California King to separate them. Rick stares at her, his eyes wide as he struggles to figure out what's happening. He starts to move toward her but she holds out her hand to stop him, "No, no." Her voice is shaky, her hands shaky.

"Michonne? What is wrong? What happened?" He begs, watching as she moves her hands through her hair.

She turns slightly, staring at the bathroom door as she clutches at her chest, "Oh God," She says, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I," He steps toward her again but she moves back again, "No, please don't. Please."

He watches her as she stands in almost a disoriented state. He doesn't want to scare her any more than he already has. He stares at her as she covers her mouth with her hand again, staring off into space, "I'm sorry," She starts again, "I'm sorry Rick."

"No, you don't have to be sorry." He answers quietly, "I don't, what is happening?"

"I just, I just want to be alone. Please? I'm sorry."

Before he can even answer, she walks out of the room, wrapping her arms around herself as she moves. He hears the door to his spare bedroom open and then close. He stands there for a minute, his mind racing before the light from her phone catches his eye. Another message from Maggie. He picks it up slowly, glancing toward the door slightly as he ponders reading it. It's an invasion of her privacy, he knows that, and she obviously doesn't want him involved in it. She did tell him her password though, just so he'd have it. Maybe for a time like this. He decides against it, setting her phone back on the bed before he moves to his side to grab his own. He pushes Maggie's name and brings the phone to his ear, her picking up on the second ring.

"Rick? Is she okay?"

The desperation in Maggie's voice makes his heart sink even more, "No."

"I'm on my way, okay?"

"Okay."

The phone goes dead.

All he can do it stand there and wait.


	19. Chapter 19

**Guys. I'm terrible, I know, but hopefully, this angst filled chapter will make up for it. I was hit incredibly hard by Chester Bennington's death, so naturally, his music has been incredibly inspiring to me (although I've been obsessing over this chapter for weeks). So, the next few chapters will probably be heavily inspired by Linkin Park. RIP buddy.**

 **Anyway, the soundtrack has been updated and happy reading :) - B**

* * *

 **Nineteen.**

A pair of green eyes scan over blue ones as they stand outside of the closed bedroom door. Maggie's not sure if she's seen him this way. He's usually, awkward, when it comes to emotional situations. Excusing himself as quickly as he can so someone else can deal with it. But, as he stands here, recounting what happened, she's seeing a new side. He cares. He's not pretending to be involved, or worried, or concerned, it's dripping from his movements, his words. If it weren't as serious as this situation is, she'd be incredibly skeptical of him, angry even, but she knows that Michonne needs them. _Both_ of them.

"She didn't tell you anything?" Maggie asks softly, glancing toward the closed door.

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes to the ground before running his hands through his hair, "No, just that she wants to be alone."

Maggie takes a breath, nodding slowly and mimics him by running her hand through her freshly cut hair. He's hurt. She can tell. She also knows how Michonne likes to and tries to keep Andre all to herself. In fact, if Maggie wouldn't insist on accompanying her to the cemetery every year, Michonne would gladly go alone. But, one crisis at a time. She lays her hand on the doorknob, shifting a little in her black leather jacket, "Let me talk to her. I'll get her to calm down and maybe, if she's okay with it, I'll fill you in later. Okay?"

Rick just nods, placing his hands on his hips as he glances down the hallway, "Alright. I'll um, I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

She watches him as he starts to walk off, "Thank you." She calls after a moment, but, she's not really sure where the words came from or why she blurted them out.

"For?" He turns slightly.

She shrugs, "You've been good to her. She really needed that; someone being good to her. So, thanks."

He doesn't respond. He just drops his head, but a hint of a soft smile can be seen before he turns and walks somberly down the stairs. Maggie takes another breath before she turns back toward the door and knocks softly, "Mich? It's me, doll. I'm coming in."

She walks into the room and closes the door behind her, her eyes adjusting to the dark room rather quickly. The moonlight crashes into the room through the large window and accentuates Michonne's body curled on the bed. She's facing the window, her knees in her chest as she sniffles. Maggie doesn't move at first. She shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and takes yet another deep breath. She eyes the room, noting the coldness of it, the uninhabited look of it all. It's so, formal, so uniform, so Rick Grimes. Well, the _old_ Rick Grimes. No wonder Andrea hated being in here.

She doesn't know what to say, which, is a first. She could start with a little humor but, she knows that won't go over well. She could be serious, but Michonne will see right through that and get pissed off. So, she just opens her mouth and decides to try and be prolific, "Don't be so hard on yourself." She sighs a little.

"I forgot about the anniversary of my only sons' death." Michonne chokes out.

"You've been busy."

"Maggie," She whines, as a new wave of tears washes through her, "Not now."

Maggie moves slowly to the bed, sitting at the end, "Don't beat yourself up for trying to move on babe."

"Trying to move on? Really? That's all you have to say to me?"

Maggie tucks some of her loose hair behind her ear before letting her hand fall to the bed. She stares at the wall opposite of her, "I didn't mean to ruin your night."

Michonne rolls her eyes. She tucks her hands underneath the pillow a little more and lets out an angry huff, "Don't make this about you."

Maggie cuts her eyes toward Michonne, her mouth dropping open as she stares at her, "I'm not." She answers lowly, almost angrily, before she turns her head away completely. She bites the inside of her mouth as she tries to find the right words to say. She blinks slowly, her eyes glancing around the wall in front of her as that little perfect smile of Andre's lights up in her brain, "I know you're upset and I'm sorry. I am sorry. I just wanted to make sure that you didn't leave without me in the morning, that's all." Maggie sighs again, "You know, you deserve every bit of goodness you've been feeling and Andre would hate to see you like this. You know that."

She waits for Michonne to say something, _anything_. But when she doesn't, Maggie stands, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket, "You didn't forget, Michonne. You were just busy living," She nods her head slowly as she continues to move her eyes around the room, willing herself not to cry, "And there is nothing wrong with that. I hope you realize that." She moves toward the door and opens it slowly, "I'm telling Rick, because I have never seen that look in his eyes before. Be mad at me all you want to."

 _Memories consume like opening the wounds_

 _I'm picking me apart again_

Michonne takes a breath, an audible one. She rolls over to stare at her green-eyed friend. She doesn't speak. Neither one them do. Maggie just stands there, staring back at Michonne, her heart breaking for her but her veins filling with anger all at the same time. _Stop giving up._ Michonne's breathing picks up, her mouth parting as she blinks furiously, tears sliding down her cheeks. She opens her mouth, wanting to say something, _anything_ ; but nothing comes out. Maggie takes a breath, hoping. Instead, Michonne rolls back over, staring out of the window as darkness and stars fall over the city of Atlanta. Maggie drops her eyes to her feet and then slides out of the room silently, closing the door behind her with a soft _click_.

Michonne slams her eyes shut, taking a shaky breath before she pushes it out through her mouth and in between her teeth. Her chin and lips tremble as she repeats the self-soothing technique. _I have never seen that look in his eyes before._ As if she wasn't confused enough with him. As if she wasn't having a hard enough time trying to reconcile what she's been feeling for that man for the past few weeks. She slams her fist into the mattress angrily. _Now is not the fucking time. Your son is dead._ She shouldn't be worried about some _man_. Her eyes open slowly, her vision cloudy. She stares at the window, not out of it, but just at it. He's not just some man. Not anymore.

 _I don't want to be the one_

 _The battles always choose_

 _Cause inside I realize_

 _That I'm the one confused_

He's a good man. A sweet man. A kind, compassionate, caring man who has breathed new life into her. She's been so closed, so empty, so lonely… and then, there he was. Like he was supposed to be there all along _. I have never seen that look in his eyes before_. She's knows the look that Maggie was describing. All though she was in the middle of a breakdown, she saw it earlier in his bedroom as soon as he realized something had happened. It was panic. It was fear. It was sadness. For her. Without knowing what was happening, how to help, or what to do, he still wanted to be there; to do something, to try.

A woman doesn't know what love is, what true, unwavering, all-consuming love is until she's carried a child. Everything made sense after Andre was born. The grass was always green, the sky always blue, the sun always bright. Mike's put downs and picking and never-ending complaining didn't bother her as much. She had her baby boy to come home to every night. Whenever Mike would start his shit, she'd just scoop his little behind up and whisk him off to the ice cream shop, or the park, or just for a walk. Nothing mattered anymore but him and her. Andre and Michonne. She always felt _something_ when Andre was around. It's been so long since she's felt something. She didn't think it was possible for herself anymore.

Until Rick.

 _I don't know what's worth fighting for_

 _Or why I have to scream_

 _I don't know why I instigate_

 _And say what I don't mean_

 _Andre would hate to see you like this. You know that._ Has she wallowed in her grief for too long? Of course, she has. But the guilt, the guilt of having a life when he doesn't anymore always pulls her back in. It wraps her up like a warm blanket and makes her feel safe because living, living again after something so tragic is unbearably hard. The world is noisy, and bright, and relentless. Once you break, truly break, you don't have time for noisy, or bright, or relentless. You just want to crawl into your hole with your grief and your guilt and let it tuck you in every night. Guilt doesn't make you face anything. Guilt won't let you be happy. Guilt won't let you cope. Why would it? It needs you. Misery loves company.

She blinks again. She takes another breath. This is different somehow. She's devastated, yes, but it's, it's melting away? So quickly? That's… strange. She'd be in this very same state for weeks leading up to and after the anniversary. She didn't have anything else. Knowing that Rick is here, just in her space, is making it go away. She wants to be mad, she wants to be saddled with the pain, but she also wants to go downstairs. She wants to feel him. She wants him to be the one wrapping her up like a blanket, not this hurt, not this pain. The guilt and misery is strangling her, trying desperately to drag her back down into the pits of hell but Maggie's words spill out into the noise of her brain, silencing everything. _I have never seen that look in his eyes before._ She can still feel Andres' little hand in hers sometimes. She'll hear a child laugh off in the distance and for a split second, she'll turn or glance in the direction, expecting him to run up and crash into her lower half. She still feels his arms around her hips.

 _I don't how I got this way_

 _I know it's not alright_

That's the guilt talking. Reminding her of him, wanting her to stay in that hole forever. _Stop giving up._

Michonne rolls over onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. She's confused. A war is battling within her and she can't choose a side -no, she doesn't _want_ to choose a side. She always thought she'd choose Andre. Nothing was more precious, nothing more serious, nothing more important that her baby boy. Maggie stands on the other side, wanting her friend back, but it's not just Maggie standing there anymore, it's Rick too. That's what scares her. Not only because he's the first man in years to appear to her in such a way, but because he's not _supposed_ to.

 _Michonne laughs a little, putting her glass back down on the table, "But you have a commitment! You commit to these women you just don't," She trails off as the light bulb turns on above her head. Rick watches as she connects the dots, surprised at how quick her mind is, "You don't want to fall in love."_

 _He points at her, nodding his head, "Bingo, and I don't want them falling in love with me."_

" _Why?" She asks breathlessly, resting her elbows on the table as she leans into him, her eyes squinted._

 _He shrugs, "It's pointless."_

She's knows why this is so different now. She knows why she wants to leave this room and crawl into his arms and just fade away. She blinks _again_. She takes _another_ breath. Deep down, she knows what side she ultimately wants to take, although, she doesn't want to admit it. She doesn't want to say it out loud because that makes it real. It makes Andres' fate real. It makes her feelings real. God knows she'd do anything to have her baby back. But God also knows what's in her heart. Love.

She loves him.

She shouldn't, she can't. He'd never approve of that, he'd never- _I have never seen that look in his eyes before._ What does that mean, exactly? Maybe that means… wow. Maybe that means he might approve. Maybe not now, but, later? Maybe? Maybe he feels it too? He's all but admitted that she's different, that she's not like any other sub he's had. That could be why. Maybe he wasn't just good for her, but she was good for him too. Maybe she breathed new life into him, too. Maybe this goes both ways.

 _It's pointless_.

This is all bigger than that, though. To love him, to choose him, means she has to let Andre go and she just can't. She won't. She'll have to finally deal with it. She'll have to deal with his death, she'll have to deal with Mike leaving her in her time of need. She'll have to deal with that fact that while she was grieving, Mike was sneaking around with their babysitter. In their home. In their bed. While their child was decomposing in the ground. She can't. It's still too fucking raw. She closes her eyes and he's there, Andre. Running through the tall grass of Pastor Herschel's farm. Laughing as loudly as he can. He turns suddenly and beams at her as she runs up behind him, scooping him into her arms and lifting him toward the sun.

"I love you mommy."

She crushes him to her chest, smiling widely as she sways them back and forth as a gentle breeze whips through the grass and the trees and whirls around them, "And I love you baby."

He wraps his arms around her neck and squeezes, "It's okay mommy." He whispers, "It's okay to let go."

Michonne's eyes pop open.

 _So I'm breaking the habit_

 _I'm breaking the habit tonight_

* * *

Hours have passed. Maggie snores lightly on the couch in the living room, just beyond the kitchen. All of the dishes and plates and silverware from their dinner are washed and dried, all by hand, and resting back in their rightful spots. The TV flashes as the scenes change but no sound comes from it. The fan in the living room spins slowly. Maggie hates fans. _Who has time to be stuffy?_ She asked as she dropped her bag and plopped down. Rick sits at the bar, his laptop staring back at him with a blaring white light. He supposed to be working, he thought maybe it'd help keep him busy. But it's been hours. He hasn't read a single email, not a single proposal. He's just sat there. Thinking.

 _You all assume_

 _I'm safe here in my room_

 _Unless I try to start again_

He knew that look in her eyes earlier. He had the same look all those years ago when he came home from work that awful day. Everything was gone. Her clothes, her makeup, most of his furniture. The cups, the plates, the silverware. The little knick-knacks from the mantle over the fireplace. Carl. Shane. Lori. They were all just gone. That's the look she had tonight, like something was just _gone._ Maggie wouldn't give anything up either. She came down just a few minutes after he did, and announced she was leaving to get some clothes. She was back within the hour, complained about the fan being on to high, and spent the rest of her evening watching reruns of Cops until she fell asleep. So here he is. Still just as useless as he was a few hours ago.

Rick flicks his eyes toward the ceiling as a soft noise sounds in his apartment. He waits for a second before he blinks a few times and then drops his eyes back to his laptop, where he finally focuses in on his inbox. He clicks through them one at a time, skimming the contents slightly before he moves on. He comes to an email from Carol from earlier in the day. He's a little surprised he missed it but then again, he wasn't focused on work for much of the day.

 _Rick-_

 _I know you told me not to, but I'm digging into this further. I may have something. I've got a few warrants out to look further into the sealed documents. Stay close to town in case I need you. Please._

 _-C_

He sighs. These are all things he's read or heard from Carol before, and they never pan out. He won't get his hopes up, and he certainly isn't going to stay close to town. It's been a while since he's been on a vacation where he didn't have to work. Plus, he wants to show Michonne the world and now, he has the perfect excuse for them to sneak off for a few weeks. After this, she'll need to get away. It's funny how things just kind of fall into place sometimes. He clicks off Carol's email and continues to move through them until motion from the stairs alerts his attention.

 _Clutching my cure_

 _I tightly lock the door_

 _I try to catch my breath again_

She's in nothing but one of his old t-shirts, her arms tucked underneath her breasts as she continues to shield herself. Her toned legs are on full display, her hair piled high on her head, her eyes cast toward her feet. She's a vision. Even when she's hurting, she's a perfect example of sheer beauty. He can't take his eyes off her as she descends toward him. She makes slight eye contact with him and her lips curl up slightly, nervously, but it disappears as quickly as it came. She moves right for him, although her body language screams that she needs some distance. She keeps her eyes on the ground as she leans her side against the bar, a few feet from him. He wants so badly to reach out, to touch her, to tell her everything is going to be okay, but he resists. He just stands and walks deeper into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to grab a water.

He's careful to not touch her as he extends the liquid toward her, letting his hand fall back to his side once she takes it from him. He leans against the wall behind him and watches her as she brings the bottle to her lips. She closes her eyes slightly as she drinks slowly, licking her lips when she's finished. Her eyes are puffy and red from crying, her nose runny as she sniffles, but her lips look so soft. She sits the water bottle down gently, rubbing her fingers with her hand before she looks up at him shyly again.

"I'm sorry."

Rick shakes his head instantly, letting out another breath, "Please don't apologize. You did nothing wrong."

She glances off, turning slightly to peer at Maggie's feet hanging off the end of the couch, "She's still here?"

"She left for a while, said she had to pick up some clothes."

Michonne nods slowly before she turns back toward him. Her mouth falls open a little as her eyes dart around the floor again. The wheels are turning upstairs, but nothing cranks out of her just yet. She's not sure if she wants anything to, honestly. Her courage is draining faster than what she anticipated. She takes a small breath before she looks up at him again with those sad eyes. It's now or never.

 _I hurt much more_

 _Than any time before_

 _I have no options left again_

"I had a son." She stops, letting the words mature between them, "Andre. He was um, he was three. I'm not a prosecutor anymore because one day after work, I had picked him up from his daycare and, we were walking to get some ice cream. I was on my phone, talking to the district attorney when the ball he was bouncing bounced out into the street." She stops again, taking another breath and closing her eyes as the memories push through.

"It's okay," Rick says softly, "You don't have to-"

She shakes her head as fresh tears begin streaming down her face, "No, I have to. I have to, I can't stay like this. It is, it is killing me. It's killing me." She looks back up at him, her breath shaky, "I have to stop giving up."

 _I'll paint it on the walls_

' _cause I'm the one at fault_

 _I'll never fight again_

 _And this is how it ends_

Without thinking, Rick reaches out and grabs her wrist, pulling her into his body. He wraps his arms around her small body and lifts her from her feet. She gasps from the sudden sign of emotion from him; she even senses that it was sudden and spontaneous for him. She sniffles, and buries her face into him as she wraps her arms around his neck. She takes a deep breath. She feels like all she's been doing today is breathing, but this breath is new. This breath is fresh. She needed this breath so badly. She lifts her head and rests her chin on his shoulder, smiling a little as he tightens her grip around her.

She glances up at the ceiling and just lets it go, "I couldn't get there. Before I can even register what was happening, that red Mustang was just… _there_. Like someone had picked it up and placed right in front of him." She closes her eyes again, "He died before the ambulance got there. Right in my arms."

"I'm so sorry." The words rush out of him as he slams his own eyes shut.

"Thank you." She whispers, "The fourth anniversary is tomorrow. I've just been so… wrapped up in all of this, it um, it slipped my mind. When I got Maggie's texts, it just…"

"I get it." Rick mumbles into her neck, peppering her skin with kisses, "Just please don't apologize anymore."

"Okay." She laughs lightly, "Maggie always insists on going with me, to the, cemetery."

"You don't like her to?"

She shrugs a little, "Not at first. She tries to talk to me and stuff on the way over. If I need coffee or if I want a muffin or is the music to loud, do I want the window down. But after we get there, it's kinda nice having her there. It's nice. I think she talks so much to fill the void, you know? She doesn't like to feel anything, so she just-"

"Talks." Rick chuckles a little, "That's our Mags."

"Yeah. That's our Mags."

A silence falls over the pair as they stand in his kitchen, holding each other. Rick glances up at the digital clock on the wall as the time flashes 1:02am, "Do you guys usually go early or?"

"Depends."

"Well," He sighs a little, "I can wait to go into the office. To see you guys off, if, if you want, or not. I don't want to, you know, intrude on the day or anything."

She smiles widely, her eyes watering over as she glances up at the ceiling, "I'd like that. Thank you."

"Stop thanking me. I'm not doing anything." He wraps her legs around his waist and grabs her water before he carries them toward the stairs.

She sighs heavily, her eyes fluttering as more emotion leaks from them, "Yes you are."

His walk is slow as he moves them into his bedroom. His ritual is the same as if they were coming from his playroom. He tucks her in first before he moves to his side. He shrugs out of his t-shirt and settles in next to her before he pulls open his candy drawer. He pulls out two mini butterfingers and hands her one. They enjoy their snack in silence, both sets of eyes staring up at the ceiling as they work through their separate but unknowingly similar situations. Rick drifts off after a while, his breathing become her soundtrack as her mind continues to race.

Sleep won't come easy, but at least now, she can _breathe_.

 _I don't know what's worth fighting for_

 _Or why I have to scream_

 _But now I have some clarity_

 _To show you what I mean_

 _I don't know how I got this way_

 _I'll never be alright_

 _So I'm breaking the habit_

 _I'm breaking the habit_

 _I'm breaking the habit tonight_


	20. Chapter 20

**I feel like I always start these things out with apologies, lol. Hopefully, this chapter is worth the wait. Per usual, the soundtrack has been updated with Roads Untraveled by Linkin Park (yes, I am still blasting them loudly) and if you head over to tumblr (or have seen my post from yesterday), you'll get a visual of mister Mike. Thanks for sticking with me guys! Hope you enjoy and I look forward to hearing from you :)!**

* * *

 **Twenty.**

It's quiet in the apartment this morning. Usually, there's a radio playing as Rick showers. His hums and light singing waft toward Michonne, waking her from her sleep. The TV usually pops on from the automatic timer he's set and the world news helps welcome her back into the world. Not today. Three people are moving around in this space, but not a sound can be heard from any one of them. No music, no news, no hums. Nothing. Rick is careful of Michonne's space, rushing his routine just a tad to let her have her time in the bathroom. Any other morning, they'd be side by side, trading glances and smirks as they brush their teeth. He'd snap his towel at her barely covered butt and she'd fall into a fit of giggles before hissing and rubbing at her flesh as the sting settled in.

Not today.

He watches her move through the crack in the bathroom door as he dresses in the bedroom. She moves slowly and deliberately. The usual shine in her eyes is gone as she stares at her reflection in the mirror as she brushes her teeth. She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly before she drops her head. His heart breaks even more. He doesn't know if he's ever felt _that._ Carl was just gone. Some people thought that was worse; the not knowing. But it couldn't be. The finality of knowing that your child was never going to walk through your front door again was… he'd never want that. He had found a comfort in the not knowing. He had lived in it and with it for so long, he'd be lost without it.

He ducks in the bathroom quickly, just as she's wiggling into her red dress. His mind instantly turns toward the gutter but he scolds himself as he spritzes on his expensive cologne. _Not today, Grimes._ He turns back to face her, dropping his eyes to the marble floor out of… respect? Fear? He's not sure really, but he doesn't like it. That's not them. "I'll be downstairs, okay?"

She smiles softly. It's a sad smile, but he'll take it, "Okay. Thanks."

He moves cautiously out of the bathroom and then down the stairs, glancing at his watch as he enters the kitchen. He grabs a yogurt from the fridge and leans against the island as he takes a spoonful, grabbing his phone to start scrolling through his email.

"Always the professional." Maggie coos as her heels hit the marble floor, clicking loudly as she moves toward him.

He smirks at her but never lifts his eyes from the screen, "They act like they can't function without me."

"Well, this is the first time in how many years you weren't the first person in the building? I'm sure they're worried sick."

He shrugs, clicking the side button to put the sleek phone to sleep. He throws his eyes her way and takes a breath. If she weren't like his little sister, he'd be weak in the knees. Her short, dark hair is in her face, loose curls falling every which way. Her make up is light and natural, her lips dressed in a light pink gloss. She's decked out in a simple red, mid-thigh length dress, with her hands tucked in her black leather jacket.

He smiles at her, not a toothy grin, but like a proud dad, "You look beautiful."

She nods her head at him, grabbing his spoon from his hand and stealing a bite of his strawberry yogurt, "Thanks." She moves away from him, walking slowly around the kitchen as she bides her time, "Is she okay?"

Rick drops his head again, before shrugging, "I'm not sure. She hasn't said much today."

" _She_ is fine." Michonne states quietly as she joins the duo, reaching a hand toward the island to rest her weight as she adjusts her ankle boots, "I am, really."

Michonne makes the first move, leaning into Rick a little before he snakes his arm around her waist to pull her the rest of the way. He kisses her forehead as she rests her hands on his chest, letting his lips linger as he breathes in her vanilla scent, "We're just worried about you, that's all." He whispers after a moment, not realizing how tense he's been for the past twelve hours until he relaxes from her touch.

"I know. But I'm good, I am." She reassures them, looking over at Maggie, "It feels different this year."

Maggie shoots her a small smile as she moves toward her, grabbing her arm and squeezing gently to let her know that she's there. Always and forever. Michonne tilts Ricks' wrist toward her, noting the time, "You better go. I thought you said you pushed your meetings this morning."

"Cancelled 'em all together. I told them I'd be later than I had anticipated." He says coolly, rubbing her back slowly with his large hand.

His phone vibrates against the counter, Sophia's name flashing across the screen. It stops a few seconds later, and then immediately starts again, this time Rosita Espinoza scrolling across the top, "Not this late. They need you." She answers back, just as his phone begins to ring for a third time.

"They can wait." He reassures, "Do you guys eat before you go?"

Maggie shakes her head, "We never have the stomach."

He nods slowly, "May I ask what the red is for?"

"Red was Andre's favorite color." Michonne says, "It's just a small way to honor him."

"That's beautiful." He whispers, "You two look great." He kisses her forehead again, making his way down the bridge of her nose and to her lips. He pecks at her mouth, the corners, the top, the bottom, and then fully on her lips, stealing a slow, sweet, simple kiss. Just enough to get him through the day, "You ready?"

She nods, her eyes closed, that toothless smile spreading across her lips again. He's amazed honestly. She might not mean the smiles, but just the fact that she can muster them is incredible. He takes her hand and the threesome move toward the elevator, Rick stepping aside to let the ladies through first. The ride is quiet but each one is glad that the other is there. Rick throws his arms over both of their shoulders, causing the tough as nails Maggie to crack just a bit. She laughs lightly and wraps an arm around his waist. She won't admit it, she would never dream of telling him, but holy fuck is she glad he's here today. Not just for Michonne, but for herself as well.

She feels that she has to be strong for Michonne, so she doesn't cry. But she really wants to. She doesn't want to fall apart because she's afraid that no one will be able to put her back together. That no one will want to. Losing Andre and then Morgan so close together really tested her tear ducts, but she never let them fall. Not at the funeral, not when that first night after she told Morgan she wanted space, or any night after. She just cut her hair, dug her heels into the dirt, and amplified her queen bitch status. Today though, she feels Michonne's sentiments. It feels different and she can't help but think that it's because of the tall southerner between them. Maggie feels safe today. She feels like she could cry today, she could fall apart today, and he'd be there to put her back together. She's never really had that before, from a man that is. Usually, they'd only be there because they're fucking, or because they were trying to fuck her, or fucked her sometime in the past and wanted another go. Rick would be there because he's her friend. _Shit. Is this that trust thing that everyone is always talking about?_

The elevator finally reaches the ground and pops open again, Michonne and Maggie making their way out onto the concrete. Rick takes a step before he stops abruptly, cocking his head to the side slightly, "One minute, ladies."

The women turn, matches expressions on their faces. Rick Grimes isn't forgetful. None the less, He disappears behind the metal doors and is whisked back up to his lavish apartment, "What is that about?" Maggie asks after a moment.

Michonne shrugs one shoulder before linking her fingers together, "Haven't a clue."

A few minutes later, the sound of the elevator approaching grows louder and louder. It comes to a stop, a soft ding ringing through the parking lot. The doors open and out steps Rick, his black suit now accented with a red and white striped tie and matching handkerchief. Michonne closes her now watery eyes and smiles widely, a toothy one, before biting her bottom lip as he approaches. He wraps her up in his arms, squeezing her tightly before he brushes his large hand over her face. He tilts her head up toward his, cupping her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears gently. His warm breath on her face calms her as she grabs his wrists. She keeps a hold on him as she tries to work through all of the emotions tumbling though her.

"Hey," His deep voice is calm and even and soft, "Call me if you need me, okay? I mean it." She nods, "You don't have to do this alone anymore."

"You're incredible." She blurts out before her mind can really process the thought.

He chuckles before rubbing his nose against hers, "If you say so. Margret?" He calls, never taking his eyes away from Michonne's dark ones.

She sighs loudly behind them, rolling her eyes dramatically at the sound of her given name, "Yes, _Richard_?"

"Take care of my girl today."

Maggie smirks at the two of them, resting her hands on her hips as their love scene plays out in front of her. If you would have told her six months ago that two of her most emotionally unavailable, closed off, shut down, robotic friends would be standing in the middle of a parking garage, unable to take their hands and eyes off each other, she would have laughed in your face. She might have even told you to fuck off. But, here they are. Standing in a parking garage. Completely unable to take their hands and eyes off one another.

"I will."

Rick lowers his hands from Michonne's sweet face and links his fingers with hers, pulling her toward Maggie's Lexus. He opens the passenger door and helps her in, holding her smaller hand in his as she sits and adjusts in the cream-colored leather seat. Maggie brings the car to life, the hum of the engine adding sound to the quiet garage. Rick leans in and kisses her one last time before he steps away from the car, shoving a hand into his pocket. He raises his free hand toward them as they pull off and watches until they're out of sight. He moves to his Corvette and jumps in, pulling out into the sunlight. His phone vibrates against the cup holder a few minutes later, a text from Maggie popping up.

 **I got her. Don't worry.**

 **And don't call me Margret, asshole.**

 **Thank you, Mags.**

 **No Rick. Thank you. From both of us.**

* * *

 _Weep not for roads untraveled_

 _Weep not for paths left lone_

 _Cause beyond every bend is a long blinding end_

 _It's the worst kind of pain I've known._

Michonne keeps her eyes out the window as the high-rise buildings and concrete blurs into trees and grass and houses. It's been so long since she's been out of the city. It's almost jarring. That smell though, the sweetness of the air, brings her right back home. She closes her eyes and she's eight again, running through the tall grass as fast as she can, the Georgia sun beating down on her. The long, warm summer nights spent sneaking out from her grandmother's house with Maggie. The many sunsets she spent sitting on that old wooden dock with Mike. Laying in the grass in her mothers' backyard with Andre. It amazes her how the memories flood back with such ease.

She flips her eyes toward her friend, taking note at her tense body language. There's a lot of good that comes from their hometown, but a lot of bad too. Maggie's righteous, god fearing, preacher father being top of her list. Michonne can still hear his booming voice, damning his oldest child as she skipped down the front steps, tears streaming down her face. His attempts at sending her away to boarding school failed just as miserably as his screaming did; and his whippings. The second she turned eighteen, Maggie was out of that small town, and never looked back. Sure, her and Pastor Herschel are on speaking terms now, but one visit a year is good enough for Maggie. Out of sight, out of mind.

They pull into the parking lot of the cemetery about an hour and a half after they left Rick in the parking garage. They both step out into the sun without a word being spoke between them. They move around the front of the car, their heels crunching in the gravel as they move. Maggie grabs Michonne's hand and intertwines their fingers, just like she has every year on this day, and they step into the grass, heading toward his plot. The grass even feels the same underneath her feet. It bends and crunches _just_ the same as it always does. The wind rustles through the leaves of the tall trees around them, just the same. The sun is high and bright, just the same. It's so strange, so eerie, but so familiar. So comfortable. She has to break this cycle. She told herself just the night before that she had to break it. She has to let Andre go, let _this_ go. But not today. Today is the last day and she's going to enjoy it.

The women kneel into the grass once they reach his marble headstone. Michonne instantly reaches out, tracing her finger along his name. Andre Anthony Jacobs. "Hi baby." She smiles as Maggie gently rubs her back, "It's been a while, I'm sorry."

She used to visit him every day. Every day, for over a year, she came to his grave. No matter rain, sleet, what Georgia calls "snow"; she was there. That's why she quit her job. She just couldn't focus on anything else anymore. She had become obsessed with it, really. With his death, with his grave, with the routine of getting up, getting dressed, and spending her whole day here with him. The therapist was Maggie's idea. She knew it was becoming unhealthy for Michonne. Dark, even. It took Michonne almost another full year to finally open up to the good doctor, to finally listen to what he had to say. That's when the visits became less and less. Instead of every day, it was every other. Then, once a week, and then twice a month, to where it is now. On special occasions. She's also graduated to "special occasions" (meaning absolutely none, despite the calls and voicemails from the receptionist) with the good therapist too, which, she isn't all that upset about.

"We love you babe." She chokes out, dropping her head as the emotion starts to come. Maggie wraps her arms around her and squeezes tightly, closing her own green eyes as a tear slips down her cheek, "We miss you."

Maggie rests her chin on Michonne's shoulder and opens her eyes slowly, zeroing in on nothing at all as her dear friend cries softly. They stay this way for hours. Michonne's tears subside but Maggie's grip never does. They soon start to reminisce about better times, happier times, with Andre. They laugh, and the wind carries it away to another family, grieving their recently departed. This, this is new. The laughter, the smiles, this is new. This is good.

"I met someone," She says encouragingly, picking at the grass around the bottom of his headstone, "I think you'd like him. His name is Rick."

"He makes your mama so happy, Dre." Maggie pipes in, nudging Michonne with her shoulder.

Michonne glances at her, a wide smile spreading on her face, "He does make me happy."

Maggie nods, "I know." She glances off into the distance before dropping her eyes to the hem of her dress, "I saw two totally different people in that parking garage today. Two people that I didn't even know existed. I think you make him happy too."

"You think?" Michonne lets out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding.

 _Give up your heart left broken_

 _And let that mistake pass on_

 _Cause the love that you lost wasn't worth what it cost_

 _And in time you'll be glad it's gone._

Before Maggie can answer, the sound of feet draws both of their attention behind them. The approaching couple, hand in hand, smiles on their faces, halt in their tracks. Maggie stands, her face turning to stone as her eyes narrow in on the slim, but moderately built, light skinned man before her. He hasn't changed, even after all this time. He still looks exactly like his high school self, like his time had been suspended, while everyone else's kept ticking away. His hair has the same short curl, his eyes the very same light green, those light brown, barely-there freckles still splashed across his nose. The only thing that was new of course, was the slightly shorter Asian woman on his arm. That bitch has a lot of nerve showing up here.

"Mike." Michonne breathes lightly, before taking a sudden, harsh breath as more memories begin flowing back, "What are you, what-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Maggie cuts in, her voice low, her head tilted.

Mike smirks, turning his head slightly as he tries to hide the irritation brewing in him. After all these years, it still only takes a matter of seconds before Maggie is under his skin, "I'm visiting my son."

"Oh really?" Maggie sneers, "What took you so long?"

"Maggie." Michonne starts, standing.

Mike squints his eyes at the two women before him, "What are you talking about?" He asks incredulously.

"The only time I remember seeing you here was at the funeral and that was four fucking years ago. And then, to top it off, you bring her here with you? Really?" Maggie nods toward his companion, still remembering the sound of Michonne's voice over the phone when she was made aware of their affair, "That's father of the year material, bravo."

"Just because you don't see me here, doesn't mean I don't visit my son." He snarls back, his lips and jaws tight with anger, "Lai has every right to be here. She loved him."

Maggie laughs, "Oh yeah she did, right after she finished loving you, am I right?" She turns her attention to the small woman, standing slightly behind him, "Is that how it worked, Lai? You'd put Andre to bed at eight and then take Mike to bed at nine? Leaving just enough time to slip out before Michonne got home."

"You've got a lot of nerve, Maggie!" Mike screams back.

"No, you've got a lot of fucking nerve!" Maggie's chest rises and falls harshly as she stares at the low life before her.

It's Mike's turn to laugh. He points at his chest, a smile on his face, "I've got nerve? I've got a lot of nerve showing up here? What about her? Huh?" He nods toward a shocked Michonne, "She's the only reason we're all here right now. If it weren't for her, Andre would still be here."

"Don't you dare." Maggie shakes her head, pointing a thin finger at him, "Don't you dare Mike!"

"Right Michonne? You were too wrapped up in your call to pay attention to him. As fucking usual."

"No." Tears flood down Michonne's face as she slams her eyes shut, the tires of the mustang screeching in her head again, "No, I didn't-"

"You can come up with all the excuses you want. You can blame me all you fucking want to. You can blame Lai, the affair, but you know the truth." Mike stares at her so hard, as though he's burning a hole into her, "You're the reason he's gone."

 _You're the reason he's gone._ Those were the exact same words that came tumbling out of his mouth at the funeral. _Why are you here? You're the reason he's gone!_ Michonne's father and a few of her cousins had to drag him out, he was causing such a scene. Maggie held on to her tightly as she collapsed into the grass, her chest burning. Mike had a habit of ruining Andre's special days. Most of the time, it was an accident, but that day was intentional. He wanted to hurt her, just as much as she had hurt him by taking his boy away. It was a little sad that the disdain he had for her was still there. All the time that had passed, all the distance, and it still hadn't melted away.

"Leave. Now." Maggie's voice is calm and low, but full of a hatred unbeknownst to her, "Don't you come back here."

Mike shifts his hard stare back to Maggie and he smirks again. He drops his head and turns, taking a few steps away from his ex-wife and her best friend. He stops. He closes his eyes as his words replay in his mind, guilt rising in his throat. He hadn't always been the best to her, not by a mile, but he loved that woman once. Never once did he ever think they'd end up this way. Never once did he ever think that all their laughs, their smiles, their late nights and early mornings together would burn into ashes. Never once. The best thing they ever did, was make that little boy. He thought he'd love her always for that. Until that little boy was gone.

"He was my son too." He says quietly, before heading off in the direction he came from, "Nothing will change that."

"Nobody is trying to change that." Michonne pipes up, gaining a little strength from only God knows where, "But goddamn Mike, you cannot keep-"

"Keep what, Michonne?" He turns around to face her, his eyes dark, "Huh? Keep what?"

She halts a little, swallowing. She knows that voice, that tone, that look. He had perfected it over the years. At first, when they first got together, she wouldn't pay it any mind. He'd get stern and she'd leave, wouldn't talk to him for days until he apologized. But soon, after years of dealing with his quips, his digs, his subtle insults, that look, that tone, that voice, she would just dissent. He had worn her down. He had won; or so he thought.

"You cannot keep blaming me." She said lowly but firmly, "I won't let you."

"Maybe if you were paying attention, like Mike said, things would have been different."

Mike, Maggie, and Michonne all turn their heads toward the adulterous woman as she adds her two cents to the conversation. Even Mike raises an eyebrow at her, "Babe." He says softly.

"This isn't your fight, little girl. You've done enough, don't you think?" Michonne asks, "Walk away."

"You don't-"

"You're really going to keep talking right now?" Maggie asks, stepping forward to add to her threatening manner.

Lai shuts her mouth with a huff and crosses her arms over her chest. Michonne turns her gaze back to her ex-husband, "We can stop this. We can."

"No, you can stop living in this little fantasy of yours. You got him killed, you cannot erase that madam prosecutor. You own that."

Michonne shakes her head, "I use to think that. Just up until yesterday, I thought that. I owned that, you're right. But today, today, I know that's not the truth. It may be your truth, Mike, but it's not mine. Not anymore. I can't even blame Spencer, he was just coming home from work. He hadn't been drinking, he wasn't tired, he wasn't distracted. He was doing everything he was supposed to be doing that day. It wasn't his fault that Andre ran out in front of his car, and it wasn't mine."

He squints at her, his brain working to take her words in. She's right, he knows it but doesn't want it to be true. You see, Michonne wasn't the only one that had grown comforted by the grief. She wasn't the only one that lived in the despair. She was climbing out, he could see that just in her overall appearance today. He hated it. He hated her because once again, she was leaving him behind, just like she always had. She was always stronger than him, more capable, more able and deep down, he had always resented it for it. Andre's death just gave him a reason to make it obvious.

"You keep telling yourself that." He hisses.

Michonne closes her eyes and lets out a defeated breath, "Mike, come on."

He ignores her, turning back toward his new love and grabbing her hand before he takes off angrily in the direction they came. Maggie watches him retreat until he's gone, the protective nature in her not allowing her to turn back to her friend until she's sure he's away. Michonne has sank back down into the grass. Her head is cast down, her hair covering her face as she breathes in and out, in and out, in and out. She weeps softly as her fingers play with the lush green grass below her.

"Don't listen to him, Chonne. Please." Maggie says softly, placing her hand on Michonne's shoulder.

Michonne shakes her head a little, "I have to go baby. Mama loves you."

"Michonne-" Maggie starts.

She doesn't answer. Maggie watches as Michonne stands, and makes her way back toward her shiny red Lexus. Maggie tightens her jaw as her friend moves through the wind. Maggie lets out a breath as her chin begins to tremble. She turns her head to the right angrily and inhales harshly as hot tears begin to stain her face. She tries her hardest to not give in to it, to not let the pain and the anger win. But her face breaks and a sob soon escapes. Before she knows it, she's on the ground again, her body over taken with grief as she cries loudly, _freely_ , for the first time in years _._ She rests a hand on his headstone, lets her head drop and just lets it go.

Michonne stares at her hand while sitting in the leather seat of the red Lexus. A wedding ring used to sit on her finger. A big one. A pretty one. She was surprised that he had picked it out himself. It was perfect. It was the ring that she had always wanted, that she had dreamed about. It now sits in the black velvet box that it came with in her closet, in the corner, behind her shoe boxes. She doesn't know how all of this happened. How they went from high school sweet hearts to this. Both lost in anger and despair and pain and grief. Him, unable to let it go. She loved him once. A long time ago, she loved him and that's why it hurts. Not because Andre is gone, not because Mike doesn't love her anymore or because she doesn't love him anymore. But because, a long time ago, before the world and real life got to them, they were happy.

Her eyes shift suddenly to her feet as a fleeting thought rips through her brain. _You're happy now_. That's right. She is happy now. Rick makes her happy now. Love makes her happy. She's happy now. She loves now. Rick. She loves Rick. Happiness is love; love is happiness. Rick is happiness. Rick is love; and she thinks it goes both ways. Not only does she feel it for him, but she thinks she feels it _from_ him, maybe. Right? Of course she's right, she's felt it before. She felt it with Mike, from Mike. A long time ago. She takes a breath. She's been taking a lot of those these past few days. Fresh ones. New ones. Deep ones. In that minute, Mike's words don't matter so much anymore. In that minute, the wind picks them up and carries them off to some unknown destination. She reaches into her clutch and pulls out her phone, pushing her finger down on his name.

"Baby?"

She closes her eyes and smiles to herself as his southern drawl climbs into her ear. He slithers into her body with ease and she's calm once more. He fills her like no other man has before. Sexually, emotionally, mentally. "Hi."

"Hi."

"What are you doing?" She asks, sniffling a little as she turns her head toward the window.

Rick leans back in his chair and blinks slowly as he gazes out of his windows onto the city of Atlanta. He's been in this same spot since the moment he walked into his office. His email has been pinging behind him like crazy, his phone ringing off the hook all morning. But he's sat with his back to his door, gazing upon the city for hours, just waiting for her to call, "Thinking about you." He smiles slowly when he hears her giggle softly, "What are you doin'?"

Michonne plays with her necklace, biting her bottom lip as tears slip from her eyes, "Thinking about you."

"Good."

"Why is that good?" She laughs a little.

"Because I'd be insanely jealous if you were thinking about somebody else." He hears that soft laugh again but his smile fades as a light sob chases away the noise, "What happened?"

Michonne rubs her forehead with her fingers, "Nothing."

Ricks eyes dart around the buildings, "Michonne."

She inhales quickly as a pang rips through her body. She knows he didn't mean it to come across that stern but she felt it deep down. Deep in her belly; and right in between her legs. That same terse, deep, solid, dominate voice he uses with her in his playroom. _Michonne_. She swallows as her fingers return to her necklace. She swallows again as her fingers brush against her skin slightly. She shivers.

"Michonne."

There it is again, "What?" She asks airily, her eyes closed again, her breath becoming hard.

The hair on the back of Rick's neck stands on end as he becomes aware. His lips part, his pupils dilate, his mouth salivates. An hour and a half away, and he can still dial into her like a radio station. He sits up straighter in his chair, cutting his eyes to the side before he raises them back to the city scape, "Tell Daddy what happened."

Michonne sinks back into her seat, letting out a shaky breath through her teeth. It's like he right there with her, standing over her the way he does; the way she loves, "Nothing." She breathes.

"Were you a bad girl?"

Her intention of telling him about Mike is long forgotten. Now, she wants nothing more than she sink down to her knees before him, hands on her thighs, head down, counting his footsteps as he paces around her. She wants him to punish her to the point that she can't take it anymore. To the point that she screams out of not only pleasure, but pain too. She wants to feel the rope cutting into her skin like a knife and then his lips and tongue and hands washing the pain away. What turns her on even more, is that he _knows_ it. He knows what she wants, eighty-nine miles away.

"No Sir."

"Do you want to be?"

She moans before dropping her head, her breath rushing out of her lungs loudly, "Yes Sir."

Rick closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, trying to cool his now hot body. His dick jumps against his will, defying his usual calm demeanor, "Where are you?"

"Summerville. Green Hills Memory Gardens."

He's out of his seat as the words leave her mouth. He slams his laptop shut and grabs his keys, heading toward the double glass doors of his office. He moves right past a wide-eyed Sophia, who throws her hands in the air as she watches him walk toward the elevator.

"Rick? Where are you going? You have a meeting with the Mayor in twenty minutes!"

He ignores her, "I'm on my way."

"Hurry." She breathes into the phone, her voice thick with lust.

He slams his finger on the end button and slides the phone into his pocket. His feet are hurried as he steps into the parking garage and heads toward his sleek Corvette. He drops the keys into the cupholder and slams his finger on the ignition button, bringing the muscle to life. He screeches out of the garage and out into the sun, toward his apartment for a brief stop. He undoes his tie and rolls down the window, to try and regain some sort of composure about himself. He tears through the traffic and is home within minutes. He heads straight toward his play room, grabbing a duffle bag and throwing assorted ropes and scarves into it. He packs his sweatpants, and nothing but a pair of panties for her and he's back in his car as quick as he was out of it.

He sets the destination in his GPS and Siri chimes through the speakers, "Now headed toward Green Hills Memory Gardens. Head north on Ash lane."

 _Weep not for roads untraveled_

 _Weep not for sighs unseen_

 _May your love never end and if you need a friend_

 _There's a seat here alongside me._


	21. Chapter 21

**I'm going to stop apologizing lmao. I hope this satisfies everyone after the wait, and as always, the soundtrack has been updated. Oh, and if you need a visual for the rope that is used later in the chapter, head on over to my tumblr. Enjoy, and happy Dead day! We finally get Michonne back tonight!**

* * *

 **Twenty One**.

Michonne drops her phone into her lap as the dial tone begins to hum in her ear. She swallows harshly as she moves some of her hair out of her face. She waves her hand in front of her face as perspiration springs out on her forehead. She illuminates her phone long enough to check the time. He's at least forty-five minutes away, well, maybe thirty if he's as worked up as she is. She taps her fingers on her knees before nervously glancing out the window. She glances at her phone again; three minutes. Three minutes have gone by. _Fuck_. She throws her head back into the headrest and shuts her eyes, opening them a few minutes later to spot Maggie moving through the grass. Her head is down, her shoes hanging from her long fingers as she saunters.

Michonne throws open the door, stepping out onto the gravel. She holds onto the door as her mouth drops open slightly. This body language is new for Maggie. It's unsettling. Michonne moves from the car, and walks toward the dark-haired beauty, meeting her half way, "Mags?"

She doesn't lift her head much, but Maggie waves her hand slightly toward her, "I'm fine." She sniffles.

She's not fine. They both know it. Michonne tilts her head before reaching out toward Maggie, cupping her cheeks with her hands and slowly dragging those green eyes up to hers. It's been years since Michonne has seen real tears from Maggie. The damn girl wouldn't even cry in front of her at the funeral. Her pride and ego had always been an issue, but over the last few years it's been out of control. Michonne remembers the last time Maggie cried. Another fight with the pastor. Maggie's hair was long then, down to the small of her back. She hated it. She wanted to cut it so badly, but he wouldn't allow it. She was barely eighteen, she only had two weeks left of high school. Michonne was already in the city attending college but just the sound of Maggie's voice that night over the phone… she jumped in her car and drove the hour to get her.

They went to the lake. They sat on the old wooden pier, their legs dangling over the edge before Maggie laid down, placing her head in Michonne's lap. Michonne stroked her hair as she cried softly, staring out across the lake as the moon light glistened with the water. Maggie vowed that night that he'd never make her cry again. She meant it. Maggie smiles a little, averting her eyes from Michonne, "You did good back there." She says after a moment.

Michonne laughs lightly, "Only because you were here." She lets her smile grow, "Are you okay Maggie?"

The younger woman shrugs, "I don't know."

Michonne laughs again, pulling her into a tight hug, "That's a start. We'll both get there." She whispers.

"Yeah, maybe." Maggie nods.

Michonne leans back, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Maggie's, "We will. We'll both be okay."

"You promise?" Maggie whispers, her eyes welling up with water again.

Michonne nods quickly, "I promise."

The two girls sit on the hood of Maggie's expensive automobile. They talk a little, but it's mostly filled with silence. The rumbling of an engine breaks up the silence from a short distance. It's him. She knows it's him. The sound of tires grinding against the loose gravel a minute or two later causes both women to turn. They both recognize that corvette. The American made muscle slows to a stop behind Maggie's car. He doesn't put it in park. He doesn't get out. He doesn't even roll down the window. He just sits there. Waiting for her.

Michonne bites her bottom lip as the heat returns to her face. Maggie cuts her eyes toward her, then back at the rumbling car, an amused smirk rolling to her lips. She closes her eyes but can't help the hearty laugh that bubbles up from within her, "I cannot believe you!"

Michonne scoffs, rolling her eyes a little, "He started it. I just wanted to hear his voice and he got all, you know."

"Uh huh." Maggie laughs again, slipping her shoes back on her feet.

"I can stay. I'll tell him we can meet up a little later."

Maggie waves her off, sucking her teeth, "Girl, go. Have some fun, you deserve it after these last couple days."

Michonne watches Maggie as she slides off the hood and begins digging through her clutch. Michonne follows her lead, moving behind her to rest her chin on Maggie's shoulder, "You sure you'll be okay?"

Maggie fumbles with her phone for a second, before clicking on a name and placing the sleek phone to her ear, "Peachy keen jelly bean."

Michonne sighs a little, but she knows Maggie all too well. She needs space to figure it all out, "I'll call you."

"No babe," Maggie shakes her head slightly before winking at her, "I'll call you."

Michonne can't help but roll her eyes as a small laugh escapes from her. She kisses Maggie's cheek before she grabs her purse from the roof of the car and moves toward the dark Corvette awaiting her. Maggie eyes the pair as Michonne slips inside and then follows the car as it pulls off slowly. The phone to her ear clicks. A bit of rustling can be heard on the other end before a surprised voice calls to her.

"This can't be who my phone says it is." His deep voice rattles off.

"Why can't it be?" She asks, dropping her head a little before taking a breath.

"Because it's been," The voice starts before trailing off into a long silence, "Entirely too long. I thought you hated me, for reasons that I still haven't figured out."

She shrugs although he can't see her and purses her lips as her eyes move back out toward the trees in the distance, "So did I. I guess I changed my mind."

"You were always a fickle thing."

"Have dinner with me." She doesn't ask, she just states it, firmly. As if they've already had plans settled for weeks.

"I'm in Miami on business."

"So?"

He chuckles into her ear and a shiver runs right through her spine. Her smart mouth and quick wit always amused him but her ability to surprise him is what really made him love her. Morgan clicks his teeth as he glances away from his computer with a sly smile on his face. He tucks his phone between his ear and shoulder and begins tapping away, his eyes scanning his Mac as he confirms the details. He grabs his black American Express and enters his info before turning his attention back to their conversation.

"Check your email."

Just as the words leave his lips, her phone vibrates against her ear. She pulls it away and clicks over to her email, where a first class boarding pass in her name sits, "See you in a few hours."

Morgan chuckles again, leaning back in his chair, another wide smile on his face, "I can't wait."

* * *

Michonne doesn't even make eye contact with Rick when she slides into the leather seat beside him. She just places her palms flat on her thighs and clears her throat lightly, keeping her vision straight ahead. She doesn't even speak. He pulls away from the small cemetery and slows to a stop toward the exit, grabbing his phone to search for their next destination. Siri pipes through the sound system a few moments later, "Starting route toward Rome. Turn left onto Martha Berry highway…"

The ride to Rome is a short one, barely enough time for her to get her thoughts truly together. Rick pulls them into the parking lot of the Hawthorn Suites, probably one of the only five-star hotels within a hundred miles. He pulls up into the circular drive and throws the car into park, getting out quickly and reaching behind his seat to grab his bag. She eyes him in the rearview mirror as he moves behind the car and to her side of the vehicle, throwing open the door for her. He reaches out his large hand to her, his fingers slightly curved as his empty palm waits for hers to fill it. Always the gentleman. She takes his extended hand and allows him to lead her inside.

His vison is tunneled as he moves to the front desk, where a small dark-haired woman flashes a warm, welcoming Southern smile. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. He just slides a membership card toward her that she scans, a slight beep sounding from her computer. She taps on the keyboard intently before she grabs a keycard from her drawer, sliding it through the computer to activate it. She slides it, along with a slip of paper toward him and waits patiently for his signature. She smiles once more when he slides the receipt back toward her, "Enjoy your stay Mr. Grimes."

Rick grabs Michonne's wrist and they're moving again, this time, toward the elegantly decorated elevator. She wants to make a smart remark about his clout reaching all the way out here in the sticks but a silver and gold plaque on the wall answers every question she has. He catches her eye quickly as they stop at the elevator, him slamming his finger on the small triangle to call the metal box, "Surprised, Ms. Moreau?"

She smirks and takes a deep breath as she takes her eyes off his name etched in the plaque – _Lobby Design by Rosita Espinosa & Tara Chambler of Grimes Construction and Design. Building Design by Rick Grimes of Grimes Construction and Design. _"No, Sir."

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He allows her entry before he steps in behind her, looming over her as the doors close behind them. As soon as it starts to move, he whirls her around to face him and pushes her up against the back wall, his lips crashing on hers before she can comprehend what's happened. She moans deeply into his wet mouth as his tongue massages hers. Rick breaks away from her mouth for just the quickest of seconds, allowing her to breathe before he dips in again, claiming her lips for his own once more. He slips his hand along her hip to her backside, before it slithers down her thigh. He hooks his hand underneath her knee and brings her leg up around his waist, pushing himself in between her long legs.

He wrangles his hand into the slit of her red dress to caress the smooth skin of her thigh, gripping her flesh until his fingers make indentions into her. He pushes her head to the side with his face, exposing her neck to him fully. She sighs as her eyes open to just slits as his warm tongue slides along the curve of her jaw, then back down to her neck where he bites down with a salacious need. She digs her finger nails into his back as she hisses loudly from the love bite, her body sliding up the wall. He continues to nibble along her shoulder and neck as the elevator pushes them higher and higher into the sky, his devilish fingers slipping between her panties.

The internal heat radiating from her lower half makes him shudder. His fingers glide along her wet lips and he grunts into the side of her neck as he coats his fingers with her essence. He pushes his fingers into her and leans back as he drags a long breath through his teeth. He loves to watch her. His eyes are hooded as he pushes his digits in and out of her slowly, humming slightly to himself as her eyes flutter and she bites her plump bottom lip. He curves his fingers inside of her, scratching lightly at her g-spot as a sly smile spreads across his pretty, pink lips. He withdraws from her slowly as he feels the elevator starting to slow. He rubs her swollen lips and center before he pulls away from her completely, lifting his wet fingers to his lips.

Her breath is ragged as she watches him suck her taste off his fingers, "Mmm," He groans happily before placing his index and middle finger to her mouth.

She takes them gladly in between her lips, closing her eyes as she sucks the entire length of his thick digits. Rick smiles again slowly, like a villain in a super hero movie as his eyes scan her face from mere centimeters away. The elevator stops but the lovers don't budge right away. They just stand there, her leg thrown around his waist, and stare at each other with the exact same look in their eyes. He scoops her up into his arms and moves out into the hallway, walking slowly with his girl and his bag of tricks in his arms toward their Presidential suite. Michonne grabs the keycard from his front pocket and holds it toward the small black square box above the door handle, causing it to click loudly. Rick pushes them through the threshold and makes a b-line toward the bedroom as the heavy door slams behind them.

Once in the bedroom, he drops her to the bed, her laugh filling the room as she bounces on the soft mattress. He drops his bag next and removes his suit jacket, throwing it over the back of the small chair in the corner. He undoes his silver cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves as he flicks his eyes toward her. She crawls toward him and sits up on her knees, crossing her ankles underneath her butt, and places her hands on her thighs; her eyes set in a determined stare just past him. He traces her jaw with his index finger before he hooks it underneath her chin, tilting her head up toward him.

He cups her cheeks with his hands, rubbing his hands on her smooth skin, letting his fingers roam around her jawline and chin and cheeks as she closes her eyes and lets her mouth drop open. She lets her head lull back as a soft, feminine moan bubbles up from her throat. He bends down to kiss her again, but it isn't frenzied or harsh this time. It's soft and slow and full of his passion and lust and need for her. Their lips move with each other's in their usual rhythm. He sucks on her bottom lip, and then her top one before his teeth sink down on them softly. He pulls back slowly, taking her lip with him. She giggles again before he releases it and she smiles widely back at him, her eyes closed, before she bites down on her lip again.

He grabs her face in his hands again and stares down at her, his own smile growing as she slowly opens her dark eyes to greet his. His eyes scan her face again, her eyebrows, her chin, her cheeks, her nose, etching her beauty into his mind like he's never going to see her again. He digs the tips of his fingers into her hair at the base of her neck and takes a satisfied breath, "I am so glad you are all mine." He whispers.

Her eyes widen a little, but her lips curl upward as she breathes evenly, "Me too."

A seriousness drops over them, stiffening the air in their atmosphere. He tilts his head as he continues to eye her, letting his eyes slip down to her ample cleavage poking out of the red satin of her dress. She leans forward, letting the material move outward from her, allowing him a clear visual path right down the valley in between her breasts. He reaches out toward her and rests his hand against her chest, sending his eyes back toward hers- for permission.

"Sir?" She asks quietly.

He nods slightly. She reaches her hands toward her chest and places both of hers on the back of his. She then pushes his warm palm down her chest slowly, curving his hand before pushing it underneath the loose collar of her dress. His fingers slink along her skin, the satin on her dress rubbing against his now sensitive skin as she guides him toward her right breast. She pushes his fingers underneath her bra and lets him cup her flesh before she moves his fingers around her hard nipple. Her eyes flitter again as she tilts her head, the strap of her dress falling down her shoulder. His eyes cloud over as she takes in the erotic vision before him. He almost can't handle it.

He fondles her for a few minutes more, moving over to her left breast to pay it the same amount of attention. He pulls his hand away from her long enough to offer it to her again. She stands slowly, this time keeping her eyes square on him for further direction. He drags her other strap down her shoulder and allows his hands to skim down her body, pulling on the material as she wiggles out of the form fitting ensemble. It finally drops away from her and pools at her bare feet. She wiggles her toes and he laughs lightly, causing her to smirk sweetly. She stands in nothing but her black bra and panties and he could eat her alive.

He reaches out toward her body and lets his index finger run along the rim of her panties, from hip to hip. _Slowly_. Goosebumps jump up on her skin as he teases the sensitiveness of her. He then drags that finger up to her belly button, circling it before he continues pushing up along her abs. He grips both her hips in his large hands, pulling her closer to him before he lets his fingers sink into her flesh. He skirts up her back and unhooks her bra, peering over her shoulder quickly before it loosens around her torso. He backs away from her just a step and lets the black bra hang there for a moment, before he pushes the straps down her arms. She lets it fall to the ground with her dress and takes another deep, confident breath.

Rick leans down and wraps his lips around her left nipple, sucking on her thick nub before circling her areola with his tongue. She digs her hands into his salt and pepper hair, gripping and pulling tightly as electricity shoots from her chest to the tips of her toes. He lets her breast go with a smack before he stands up straight again. He hooks his hands underneath her underwear and pushes them down her legs until they're in a heap on the floor with the rest of her clothing. He pecks her lips quickly before he turns his attention to his duffle bag, pulling out his bondage rope. He holds it out for her, letting her feel the soft cotton before he hands it to her and moves to cut off the light and close the blinds. A soft darkness takes over the room – except for the blue hue radiating from the rope in her hands.

"This will look beautiful on you," He coos as he moves back toward her, taking it from her hands and untying it.

He kneels and begins wrapping the rope around her legs, connecting both pieces in a stiff knot at her waist. He grabs more and intricately wraps her body with it, crisscrossing the rope into delicate designs against her skin. He moves up to her torso, wrapping the soft rope just underneath her breasts and around her back, before stretching it tightly right on top of her nipples. He crosses the rope over her shoulders and then puts the finishing touches on his handiwork. He pulls out another segment of rope and steps behind her, grabbing each wrist of hers to coerce her fingers to intertwine.

Michonne takes an audible breath as she feels the soft cotton of the bondage rope begin to wrap around her wrists. It's a comfortable breath, not one of apprehension or nerves, but, a content one. She's safe; she's now settled here, in this feeling, this world, but it feels different somehow still. There's much more of her to give to him now; now that she's let go of so much. No more baggage. No more heaviness to carry around. Now she's an open book with all of her old pages ripped out and shredded and sprinkled on the floor. She's been renewed with fresh, blank pages, all for him to scribble his musings on. She closes her eyes as she feels him wrapping the rope up along her forearms. He pulls tightly, and she moans at the sudden pressure. He knots the final rope and pulls on certain sections, testing the tightness before he moves back around to face her, gauging her comfort level. She nods, relishing in the tightness of the cotton against her skin and body.

He steps back, letting his eyes roam along her bound, naked body. He then kneels again, slowly, tilting his head up toward her, keeping his piercing blues on her the whole while. He wraps his large hands around her thighs and kneads her flesh like dough as he exhales deeply. He's needed this all day. He leans into her flat stomach, pressing his forehead against her as he closes his eyes, letting himself relax, letting her body comfort him. He pokes his lips out to plant kisses along her skin, sending his eyes up her body and to her dark brown orbs, smirking softly. He pushes his hands up her hips where they settle just at her sides. He pulls her body and she shuffles forward.

He sinks lower, coming eye to eye with his favorite part of her. He wastes no time in smothering his face with her intimate part. His tongue slithers out like a snake in the grass on a warm, summer day. Rick is the first to groan loudly, his enthusiasm for tasting her growing by the minute. Michonne's hips begin to roll toward him as she pushes herself into his tongue and nose as his head begins to move back and forth against her. His tongue is warm as it moves along the length of her clit, before sweeping to the side to grab her lips between his. He sucks softly, and then lets her go with a loud smack and a soft groan before he licks his lips to capture her sweet lubricant.

Her voice starts filling the empty room. Her once soft moans grow louder and more frequent and erratic as his slow torture continues. Her breathing is harsh and broken; her lungs allowing random long draws of breath before suddenly seizing as a shock of electricity flashes within her, seemingly cutting her breaths of air in half. Then, her breaths are quick and short as she forces it out through her teeth. Her hips jerk as she continues to roll them, but his hands keep her contained. She won't come until he's ready for her to. He continues to tease her with his reptilian like tongue and lips, sucking and flicking at her sensitive nub. He lets one hand relax, slipping it down her side and thigh, and then snaking it in between her legs with his tongue. He pushes his index and middle finger into her again, another shudder rippling down his spine.

She is so _warm_. The muscles inside of her are tight and swollen and wet, wanting him, begging him to release them of this tension. He curls his fingers again and massages her spot as his tongue continues to coax her outside. He peaks up at her from in between her beautiful, full breasts as they jiggle and bounce with every movement from her. She lets her head fall back and lets the feeling of her hair scratching along her hypersensitive skin mix with the pleasure that he's suppling like alcohol and Xanax. It is one sweet, addictive, blur of sensation. She gives her body full control, not wanting to anticipate or fight the impending explosion destined for her. She just wants to feel it.

And feel it, she does.

Her knees buckle suddenly as her orgasm washes over her like she's just stepped into a hot shower. Rick keeps a steady hold of her as her insides convulse around his fingers and her hips writhe against his wet mouth. He can almost _feel_ her blood coursing through her veins as she comes around him, her sex pulsating from the release. He eats it up. He doesn't waste a single drip of her as he waits for her to come down from the ride he sent her on. He pulls out his fingers and gives her one last kiss as her breath begins to calm. He cups her sex with his bare hand, loving how plump and swollen she feels after an orgasm.

He stands back to his feet, breathing slow and evenly, his chest touching hers as he inhales and exhales. He continues to palm her as he watches her struggle to regain some sort of composure. Her breath is still ragged and choppy as her eyes are nearly closed, grunts scratching at the back of her throat. He reaches toward her, taking her body into his hands once more and turns her slowly so her back is now crushed to his front. He helps her onto the bed, guiding her forward until she positioned just right. He taps the inside of her thigh a little, alerting her. She adjusts again, spreading her legs apart even further for him as her knees dig into the mattress below. She rests her forehead into the soft duvet as she feels his eyes on her. She quickly figuring out that doggy style is one of his favorites; hers too. Only because he likes to look at her, _all_ of her; and she likes being looked at.

Rick unleashed his devilish fingers and slinks them up the back of her thigh again, only to inch back in between her glistening lips. She moans into the white duvet as he strokes her with one hand. She then hears his belt unbuckling, then being pulled through his expensive belt loops, then the clasp hitting the floor. Her excitement for him grows again just at the sound. His collared shirt is next. She can hear him pulling it out from just under his pants, him popping the buttons, it moving along his skin as he frees his torso from it. He then pops his fly, and unzips slowly, causing her to squirm in anticipation.

His hands are on her again. On her hips and butt, up her back and spine, into her hair, before they sink back down to her behind. He bends down and kisses her lower back before he submerges his face in between her cheeks. She bites down on the sheets as his tongue pokes out against her once more. He moans into her and she feels it rumble through her belly and into her chest. She pushes against her restraints, her wrists rubbing against one another as she spreads her fingers to release the tightness that begins to build in them. She feels his large hand cover hers, and without a word spoken, he asks her if she's still okay. She nods quickly as she rolls her head to the side, her hair falling into her face, cutting into her vision, "I'm fine." She says airily.

Rick pulls his hand away from hers. He stands again, joining her on the bed, his weight causing her to sink further into the mattress. He closes her legs together, maneuvering her just the way he likes her with his strong hands. Her knees and thighs are now pressed together, and her beautiful, still swollen, lips are on full display. He takes himself into his hand, and runs this thick, stubborn hard on along her slit, coating his tip with her lubricant. He pushes slightly, and she juts forward, her eyes fluttering as he enters her slowly. One solid, low, gritty groan from her accompanies his intrusion as he spreads and fills her body. She rubs her forehead against the sheets as she hisses and moans. They enjoy being connected for a moment, neither one of them moving right away. It feels good to just be inside of her, and she feels good just being filled by him.

He pulls back, and pushes into her, forcefully this time, and it's just what she's wanted. He stops, and she begins to whine, wanting to wash this dreadful day away, "Oh please." She begs through clenched teeth. She bites down onto the white duvet again, "Please Daddy. Hard." She mumbles.

Her wish is his command. He bucks into her with all he can give and is rewarded with the sexiest growl from her that he thinks he's ever heard. It's deep and low and scratchy and _satisfied_. This is what she wanted; and he's going to give it to her. He pounds into her relentlessly, grabbing a hold of her hips to guide her body back into his with a thud. Their skin slaps against one another's, adding to the sexual soundtrack of her muffled moans and his deep exhales. He pushes his weight into her through his hands, pushing her lower back down to the mattress. He leans forward and over her, resting a hand on her shoulder as he continues to glide in and out of her with ease.

Michonne's eyes are closed so tight that a tear springs free and dribbles down her cheek. She continues to pull on her restraints, the soft cotton digging into her skin as she creates a friction. A numb sensation begins to build in the pit of her stomach and each deep stroke brings the beast back to life. He feels her walls beginning to contract around him and he punishes her harder than before. One, two, three, more strokes and she's gone again, screaming into the pillows and sheets as another orgasm rips through her. Rick spills his hot seed into her as her muscles convulse, milking him dry. Michonne's body completely gives out and she crashes to the mattress, rolling over onto her side as Rick collapses next to her. She maneuvers herself on top of him, resting her head on his chest as it rises and falls. He fumbles with the rope around her arms, freeing her limbs and allowing her to stretch them out on either side of him.

They breathe in unison as they lay in silence. Michonne pulls her hands to his biceps, wrapping around them loosely as she blinks into the darkness. She can't help the smile the curls onto her face after a while. Who would have thought that her day would have ended like this? She's usually curled in a ball in her cold bed, crying her eyes out, missing her little boy. She still misses him of course, but in a different way now. She wants to talk but not here. She wants to be in his masculine space, surrounded by his things. She feels safe there. Comforted by the thought that she's the only feminine energy to penetrate his sacred territory. She places both of her hands on his chest and rests her chin on them, tilting her head slightly as she eyes him.

He smiles slowly before he starts to rub her back, rolling his head to the side, "What is it woman?"

She laughs a little, "I'm ready to go home." She bites her lip as she shifts her gaze away from him, hoping that her loose use of "home" doesn't bother him.

"Oh yeah?" He chuckles, letting out a breath, "You don't want to spend the night?"

She shakes her head, relaxing a little as he doesn't even seem to be fazed by her quite purposefully slip, "I'd feel cheap if we stayed here."

He laughs loudly, scrunching his nose as his eyes close. She loves that laugh. That, carefree, unabashed laugh, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn't have to pay for this room. It's kinda mine since, you know, I built the place."

"Oh my god," Michonne groans, rolling her eyes, "Brag much?"

He laughs again, "You are something else, girl. I could use a crunch bar right about now though."

"Then let's go cowboy." She coos, rolling off him and setting her feet on the floor, "You gotta help me out of all of this, if you don't mind."

He moves over to her, lifting her head toward his by pushing her chin up with his finger. He pecks her lips quickly before he moves to the rope, beginning to remove it from her, "I do mind, thank you. I told you you'd look beautiful in this."

Their banter is light and funny as they move around the room, collecting their clothing and slinking back into it. They make their way back down into the lobby, their hands intertwined as Michonne rests her head on Rick's shoulder. His tie is draped over his neck on either side, the top three buttons of his shirt undone. The strap of Michonne's dress hangs down her shoulder as they move back out toward his Corvette. He helps her inside, before throwing his bag behind her seat and slams the door. He moves to his side and slips in beside her, bringing the car to life as Michonne replaces her head on his shoulder.

The sun is lower now as late afternoon falls over the couple as they start their journey back toward the city. Rick makes the drive much slower this time, rolling down the windows to let the warm air caress them both. Michonne pulls out her phone, about to scribe a message to Maggie but stops as her words rekindle. _No babe, I'll call you._ So, she drops her phone back into her lap and closes her eyes, letting the Georgia air fill her lungs as they eat the pavement before them.

The pair make it back to his lavish apartment eventually, turning an hour's drive into three or four by stopping to eat at some hole in the wall diner. They played with each other's fingers as they looked over the menu, sneaking glances at each other and smiling bashfully as the other one caught the others lingering eyes. They ate slowly, making very little small talk. He watched her as she sipped her strawberry shake and he could see that wide eyed, precocious little girl in her. She pulled her foot out of her boot and rubbed it along his shin as she crossed her legs, swaying them back and forth lightly, bumping them into his.

They now lay in his large California king bed, the moonlight cascading over their naked bodies. He had turned on Netflix some time ago, but neither has been watching or even remotely paying attention. His eyes have been on hers as she's resumed her position on top of him, her chin resting on the back of her hand. She's been watching him just as carefully, her eyes bouncing back and forth between his. Both of their minds are racing, but neither knows that they are thinking the exact same thing. Both bursting. Both just wanting to say it. They've both reached this conclusion on two different paths, him through giving up and giving in, her through self-discovery. Both are scared and not sure what to do, how to move forward but both are certain they want to indeed move together.

She breaks the ice, "I missed you today."

"I missed you too."

His voice is soft and calm, sleepy almost, but dare she say, dreamy. It encourages her to keep talking, "I saw Mike." She feels his body tense beneath her and he starts to sit up, but she stops him, "It's okay, I'm okay."

"What do you mean you saw him? He was there?"

"Rick, calm down."

"You should have told me earlier."

"Why?"

"Because," He huffs, anger shooting through his veins. He had a chance at that fucker and missed it. He should have been there, "I would have beat the shit out of that asshole."

Michonne keeps quiet for a few moments, keeping her eyes on him as he runs his fingers through his hair harshly. He's still tense beneath her, "Don't. Calm down please."

"What did he say to you?" He asks, cutting her off slightly. She stares back at him, tilting her head again, "Michonne."

"I'm not going to tell you if you're going to be like this."

"Tell me what he said."

"Rick," She sighs, rolling her eyes, "I don't need a savior anymore."

Her words sober him instantly. Lori said that to him once, during one of their many fights. _Do you always have to be so damn perfect? I don't need a fucking savior Rick! Scream at me! Curse me! Argue with me! I don't want you to make it better!_ He was a fixer, he always had been, even when he was a kid. That's what made him such a good business man, but maybe, not such a good husband. He takes a breath. Michonne is growing and he needs to respect that. Maggie has sheltered her for so long, been her strength, her backbone, her knight in shining armor that she just wants to break away from it all.

"I handled it." She starts, making eye contact with him again, "He was his usual mean self, blaming me for everything, trying to cut me down to nothing. He even had the nerve to bring her with him."

Rick bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes still hard but his mind working double time to calm himself down, "Her?"

"Lai, his girlfriend. She was our babysitter. They'd been having an affair right before Andre died. He left me for her not even a week after we buried him."

Rick slams his eyes shut but takes another breath, sucking his teeth a little. He places his large palm flat against her back, wanting her to keep talking, trying to prove that he's trying, "But I told him that I wasn't going to fall for that anymore. Losing Andre was the hardest thing I have ever been through, but I am not going to blame myself or let him blame me anymore. It happened. Andre is gone, but it's over now. I can't keep reliving it day in and day out. I won't."

Although her voice is low and quiet, it's strong. She is not the same woman that he met at Maggie's party. She's not even the same woman she was this morning when she left. She's right, she doesn't need a savior. She just needs him to be there, "Don't be mad anymore." She whispers.

"I'm not. I'm not mad, I promise." He returns softly, "I'm proud of you. I know that was hard."

"Not as hard as I thought it was going to be. I only did it because," She trails off, dropping her eyes from him again. The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she just can't get them out. This is a deep boundary, something that she may not recover from if he doesn't receive it well.

"Because why?" He asks, his voice low and airy.

She shrugs. _Because of you. You gave me the strength because… because I love you_. She doesn't say it. She can't. Rick's breath begins to pick up. He needs to say something, keep her talking. He needs to give her something, something that's all his. Something like his story about Lori. Something like, "I had a son too." He blurts out.

Michonne snaps her eyes back up to his, her mouth dropping open at the admission, "He was one the last time I saw him. I came home from work one day, and they were just gone, Lori and my boy. Just gone. My friend too, Shane. I never heard from the three of 'em again."

"My God," She whispers, "Rick, I," She can't find any words. She pushes her hair out of her face and places her palm on her forehead.

He shrugs a little, staring up at the ceiling as the words dribble from him, "Shane was a cop, he had every connection he needed. I guess they'd been planning it for a while because they just disappeared like thieves in the night. They didn't leave a trace of anything, just some old pictures. Just enough for me to know that they once existed." His words trail off sadly. He swallows and blinks slowly, "I don't even know what tense to use when I talk about my boy. Have, had... I just don't know."

His dreamy voice is gone. It's been replaced with an airy, sad, hurt version of itself. He stares up at the ceiling as Michonne closes her eyes tightly, hurting entirely for him. She's made such a fuss over the past day or two, hell, over the past few years and here he's been here, suffering all alone with no answers. She slightly embarrassed of how she's acted. Andre is gone, and she knows that. It's certain, it's final, it's closed. It isn't changing. But Rick's pain hangs in the balance, suspended indefinitely in the atmosphere, not allowing him to deal with it, or come to terms with it. There is no end in sight for him, and that kills her.

"How long has it been?" She whispers after seconds of silence.

"Seventeen years."

Michonne closes her eyes again, letting out a disgusted scoff. How could any wife do that to her husband? Her child? She opens her eyes slowly, all the while sucking on her bottom lip as a few tears escape for wide, soft eyes, "I, I don't know what to say." She starts, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Rick." She whimpers.

Her apology is warm and genuine, searing him right down to his soul. He sits up, pulling her body with him, positioning her in his lap. He cups her cheeks in his hands, his fingers digging into her hair as he tilts his head to the right. His mouth falls open as his breath rushes out of him as quickly as he collects it. His eyes are red and cloudy and wet, but not a tear has fallen. He wipes at the wet stains on her cheeks, his eyes moving around her delicate face. She falls into him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly as he returns the favor, crushing her to his chest.

"I only had the courage to stand up to him because of you," She says, more water leaking from her eyes, "Because I," She stops short, slamming her eyes shut.

Rick closes his eyes and finishes her sentence for her, "I love you." He says quietly, resting his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes as a weight lifts from him. Even if she doesn't want it, even if she leaves, at least he got it out. At least he was brave. At least Lori didn't take that from him too.

Michonne leans back to face him again. Her eyes are wide, almost frantic as her mouth hangs open from disbelief. Did she hear him right? Or is she dreaming? Maybe they're still back at that hotel. Instead of leaving, maybe she drifted off to sleep and she's dreamt the rest of the afternoon. Her imagination is surely running away with her right now. Her eyes search his as she blinks slowly, her chest rising into his as they stare back at one another. Rick tilts his head again, blinking rapidly to clear his blurry eyes. He reaches for her face, sliding his hands along her skin until his fingers are back in her coarse hair. His hands are home. His thumbs resume their soft stroking of her cheeks as she stares at him in pure wonder.

Is any of this real?

He seems to read her mind because he nods slowly for really no reason at all. He really can't believe he's so calm right now. He's been dreading this moment since that night at the parking garage. Even though she hasn't said anything, she hasn't left yet. She hasn't turned him down, she hasn't given him a certain look either way. She hasn't left him yet. She's still here, with him, at one of the most important junctures of his adult life. His eyes dip away from hers and to those two plump lips that protrude from her face. He flicks his eyes back up toward hers, but they divert again to her mouth. His second favorite part of her. He leans closer, his lips brushing against hers as he feels her warm breath wash against his face. He kisses her fully, sucking her lips with his own. He pulls away from her, their lips making that sound that he loves so much. But, he doesn't go far. His lips still brush against hers as he lifts his eyes to hers.

She still can't move. Her mind is a blur but somehow still all at the same time. She blinks again. Their eyes connect but his have changed. The moonlight accentuates the fire now burning beneath them. They are crystal clear but full of determination and promise. They're as beautiful, but just as deadly as the ocean. One wrong move, one subtle shift in the atmosphere, and you'll be swept away by the undercurrent. He bites down on her lip softly and what happens next surprises them both. He smiles. Not an overwhelmingly bright or cheerful one, but it's not a smirk either. It's not a shit eating grin, or a toothy, happy beaming one. It's just a simple, soft, perfect, smile.

"I love you." He murmurs again, his lips moving against hers.

He kisses her again and she moans into him sensually. He removes his hands from her face and flattens one of his palms against her back. He flips their position quickly, laying her back down on his bed. He settles in between her legs, his stomach flat to hers as he props himself up with one hand, his eyes still moving around her face. He leans down to kiss her, but she stops him, pressing her small hands on his chest. He backs up, his eyes filling with concern and for the first time since his admission, reality starts to sink in. He's said it. Out loud. There's no taking it back now. It'll hang above them in the universe forever. His face falls a little. He starts to shrink back but her lips curve up in the most glorious, toothy smile he's ever seen.

Michonne places her hands on either side of his face, her finger tips playing in his curls as she pulls him down to her. Her smile continues to grow as her eyes bounce back and forth between his, his nose rubbing against hers, their lips playing against each other's again, "Guess what?" She whispers playfully.

He lets out a labored breath, washing her in it. He's nervous. She can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, "Michonne." His voice is small, almost whiny, like a little boy pulling on his mother's dress to grab her attention.

"Just guess."

"What?" He finally asks, his face red.

"I love you."

Her voice is soft but full of delight as she bestows another smile upon him. He rushes in for another kiss and she giggles into his mouth, allowing him to eat it up to fill his empty soul. He kisses her furiously, spraying sloppy kisses and pecks over her mouth and nose and chin, causing her to laugh even louder. His last kiss, that last kiss though, turns serious, igniting another fire in the pit of her stomach. Her legs spread for him without coaxing, her bringing her legs up around his waist, her knees bending as she links her ankles and rests her heels into his lower back. He penetrates her without the use of his hands, watching as her mouth falls open again from his intrusion. He sways his hips back and forth slowly, wanting her to feel every inch of him as she swallows him whole.

His pace is slow, his strokes deep, as he pulls out of her completely, then plunges back into her depths. He places his forehead to hers and captures her lips with his every now and again before he nuzzles into her neck. Michonne wraps her arms around his neck, placing a hand on the back of his head as he spears her, their bodies pushing the pillows beneath her up the headboard. They waste the night making love to one another, not stopping until the birds begin to chirp, and the sun rays replace the moon beams. The lovers drift off into their slumber, her body half on top of his, their arms and legs curved around one another's, the blankets half on floor and half covering them. Michonne's dark hair splashes against his white sheets as her hand raises and falls with his chest as he falls into a deeper sleep.

She lets her eyes close fully and the last thought that she can decipher before she's lost to the darkness of sleep is that this is real. This is so real.


	22. Chapter 22

**Ok so, you know, I spend more time apologizing in this stupid authors note than I do anything else, lmao. I don't know what my problem is, but chapter twenty two has always been an arch nemesis of mine. If you could see all of my WIPs, they all stall out at chapter 22, lol. It's insane, honestly. I don't think I'm going to have an update to the soundtrack this time around though. I didn't really listen to anything while writing this one because it literally took me three months to finish it, lol. But, I'll take suggestions if you guys have any!**

 **Without further or do, I give you twenty two :)**

* * *

 **Twenty Two.**

Maggie whips her head to the side quickly, throwing her dark locks out of her face as she moves inside of the five-star restaurant. She heads straight for the maître d, holding her Gucci clutch to her body. Before she can even utter a word, her vision shifts, almost uncontrollably, and there he is. He leans against the bar, his dark eyes on her as he holds his glass of scotch to his lips. It's been so long, but she still stops his heart dead in it's tracks. Her long legs are on full display in her black, mid-thigh length cocktail dress. She smirks at him as her short hair falls back into her face, covering her left eye as her right eyebrow arches. She looks like a wise ass eighteen-year-old, full of piss and vinegar and adventure and danger.

She struts toward him, her long arms swaying with the movement of her hips as she approaches. She keeps her emerald eyes on his all the while, her face straight as she settles in next to him, turning her attention to the suit clad bartender, "Vodka and Sprite please."

Morgan can't help the smile that spreads across his lips as he swishes the dark liquid around in his glass slowly, his eyes roaming her all too familiar body. He's still confused as to why she's here and why she even called after all these years. Even still, he's enjoying being back in her presence. Maggie has a way of making you feel special just because your standing next to her. It's just that, she was so clear the last time they spoke. She was very, _very_ clear as she stared at the six-karat ring he had slid toward her one morning during breakfast. This wasn't working for her anymore. She wanted, she _needed_ freedom. Freedom from being a sub, freedom from rules, freedom from him. But, after four years of radio silence, confusion, anger, he's still smiling. He still feels special just standing next to her.

The bartender sets her drink on the square, white napkin and slides it toward her with a smile. Maggie grabs her round glass and turns toward her suitor, taking a sip of her cocktail before stirring it slowly with the short, black, thin straw. They look at each other for a while, her eyes wide but confident, his still muffled in confusion and wonder. She dips her head to take another sip and her short, brown hair falls in her face again. Before he can stop himself, he reaches out, using his index finger to sweep the tresses out of her eyes and tuck it just behind her ear. Her lips curve slightly as her eyes bounce back and forth between his, twinkling under the lights of the bar. He recognizes that look. She'd look at him that way sometimes in the morning.

"It's good to see you." He finally manages to say, finishing off his drink and motioning for another.

Maggie nods, "Thank you. Same to you."

"Shall we sit?"

"Lead the way, Mr. Jones."

An awaiting waiter takes their drinks and follows behind the couple as they bob and weave their way through the crowded restaurant. They've been here before. This was always her favorite restaurant while in Miami. He still remembers her favorite table. Toward the back in the corner, right next to the window. He used to gaze at her as she sat before him, her chin in her palm as she stares out at the ocean just across the street. Her green eyes sparkling under the moonlight, just like the diamonds that adorned her delicate ears. It seems like a lifetime ago. They take their usual seats and manage to not make eye contact as the waiter sets their drinks before them. He hands menus to them and moves away, Morgan watching him slightly through his black rimmed glasses before he turns his attention back to his protégé.

"You look incredible Margret."

She peaks up at him over her menu, a smirk on her face. He's the only person, besides Michonne (but only when she's really pissed), that can call her Margret and live to see another day, "Thank you. Is the duck still good here?"

He chuckles slightly, the smile staying on his face, "Creature of habit."

"Nothing changes about me."

"Something major has changed about you." She flicks her eyes up toward him again, "Oh come on. You think I haven't heard? We might not be together anymore but we're still in the same world. People still talk, Margret." He leans into the table and drops his voice, "You were a magnificent submissive."

She lets out an easy breath, her eyes skipping over to a nearby table before landing back on him, "I'm an even better Dominant."

"Dominatrix."

"Dominant." She asserts firmly, "Just because I'm a woman, doesn't mean I deserve a different title."

"It's the same thing."

"It's not, and you know it. Dominatrix makes it _sound_ sexual, like I'm not supposed to be taken seriously." She lifts her Vodka and Sprite to her painted lips and sips slowly, her eyes never leaving his, "My boys," She starts, her voice low, "Take me _very_ seriously."

Morgan sits back in his chair, his eyes roaming over her as she speaks. He's impressed. He's taught her very well, "Point taken." He takes a sip of his drink and lets the silence drip over them as she returns her attention back to her menu. He looks off into the distance, watching people mill about the street and at the beach, his mind racing, "I would have let you practice with me." He says after a long while, "I would have let you express yourself if you had just talked to me."

"Morgan," She starts.

"I mean it." He turns his head back toward her, "I loved you that much."

Maggie's mouth drops open slightly as she stares back at the toughest, most disciplined Dominant she's ever known. She's been around the country, LA, New York, Chicago, Dallas, and the stories were all the same. Everyone knew of Morgan Jones. Many stood in awe of him, wanting to pick his brain, to have his talents, to possess the mesmerizing hold he had on his submissives. The subs loved him as well, often telling Maggie how lucky she was to have him now. He had molded so many women and had been wanted by many, many more. He loved _her_. She knew that all along of course, but hearing him say it, especially now, in these strange days, it strikes her. _I loved you that much_.

"You wouldn't have dealt with it for that long." She answers, swallowing the rest of her drink but keeping the glass in her hand.

"How do you know that?"

She sits the glass down with a thud, slightly irritated, slightly angry, slightly… sad, "It's not your style."

"Was I that terrible?"

"Excuse me?" Maggie asks, her mouth dropping open slightly.

"Was I that terrible to you that you felt like you couldn't talk to me? I was that rigid?" His words are easy, but genuinely full of concern. His words aren't sad or mopey, like some love-sick idiot in a movie. He honestly wants to know. Could she really not speak to him?

"No." She answers honestly and firmly, "That wasn't it." She cuts her eyes toward him, her face showing the anger, not so much the irritation or the sad, "You like what you do. You like being in control. You liked to control me."

"That was your role."

"It's much more than that." She takes a breath, trying to calm herself, "My father dominated my mother her whole life and she just obeyed, just put up with it because that's all she knew. And then he turned that bullshit on me and made my life a living hell."

"Margret,"

There it is. That voice. That stern, low, slightly menacing voice. She stops talking, no, more like she's halts talking. If they weren't in this restaurant, she'd sink down to her knees and place her palms on her thighs. Her head down, her legs crossed beneath her at the ankle. Her training bubbles up and she shifts her eyes from his, and casts them toward the table – out of habit.

"Look at me," She obliges him, "That, was always your problem. You looked at me and saw him. I, am not your father. I never was, I never wanted to be." He falls back into his seat, frustrated in the sharp turn this dinner has taken.

"I know that."

"What is it then, Margret?" He asks, the anger raising in his voice, "What is it then? Hm?" She doesn't answer. Morgan sucks his teeth with his tongue, returning his gaze out to the water just beyond the street. He brings his hand to his face, rubbing his chin harshly, "I don't understand you." He says lowly, keeping his eyes off of her, "Now I'm starting to think I never did."

She drops her head again, gazing off toward the floor. She runs her hand through her hair before taking a heavy breath. He's the only man that ever took the time to even try to understand her, "Let's start over. This isn't," She sighs, rubbing her fingers over her forehead, "This isn't how I wanted this to go."

The waiter moves up to the table right at that moment, removing a tiny slice of the tension that had grown between the two ex-lovers. They both place their orders, both insisting on more alcohol; Morgan sticking with his whiskey but Maggie upgrading to bourbon. The young man hurries back with their drinks, sensing the shift in their moods and rushes off again, putting in another order with the bartender just in case. Maggie watches as Morgan takes his glass of brown liquor like a shot. She's frustrated him already and that wasn't her intent. She needs to get to the point and quickly.

"Have you spoken to Rick lately?" She asks.

Morgan takes a deep breath, exhaling it slowly as another drink is placed before him, "Not for a while now. I thought maybe he was still overseas."

She can't help but laugh a little, "Oh no, he's been home for a while now. He met someone."

"Ah," Morgan shakes his head slowly while spinning his glass on the table, "A new sub can have that effect."

"He's been training."

"Training?" Morgan asks, lifting his eyebrow slightly, "For this long?"

"His sub is um, new to this." She takes a swig of her drink, squinting a little as it burns her throat.

He scoffs out of genuine surprise, "A novice? Doesn't sound like the Rick I know."

"Exactly." Maggie says coolly, "That's kind of my point. You remember Michonne, of course?"

Morgan's mouth drops open as his eyes widen, the wheels spinning in his head, "You're kidding."

"Not in the slightest."

He shakes his head, blinking slowly as a perplexed smile crosses his face momentarily, "Michonne Moreau? The special prosecutor of Atlanta, Michonne Moreau?" She nods slowly, "The same Michonne that called us sexual deviants?"

Maggie laughs lightly before taking another drink and setting it back on the table, "The very same."

He would have never in his lifetime believed that straight laced, morally rigid, no nonsense Michonne Moreau would even entertain the notion of their lifestyle, let alone indulge with the likes of Richard Grimes. He laughs again, "These are strange times we live in."

"It's been incredible to watch them." Maggie smiles a sad smile as she talks, "I was worried for her at first. Rick is so rigid and stern, I just, I didn't think she could handle that after everything. She's been on autopilot since Andre and that's the last thing she needed, you know? Doms like you and Rick are for experienced professionals, not shattered little girls trying to pick up the pieces of their life." She laughs again, dipping her head and dropping her eyes to her drink glass, "He's surprised me at every turn. You wouldn't even recognize him anymore. He's been gentle and patient. Calm and reserved. He's broken almost every rule that he's had for years, just for her."

Morgan breathes evenly as he watches her lay out this story about his old friend. His brain spins, trying to connect the dots, trying to piece together the larger puzzle, but he continues to listen intently, "He and Andrea were together for eight years and he never so much as gave her a second thought when she wanted more intimacy. It was a flat out, resounding no." She laughs, remembering Rick's angry late-night phone call to her, explaining his discontent for such a conversation, "He let Michonne sleep in his room with him on night one."

Morgan's eyebrows raise. Morgan was probably the toughest as it came when it came to clear boundaries and stiff rules; but he was never a fan of leaving his sub to sleep in a room by themselves. If they wanted the separation, then that was fine, but he thought of it more as a punishment than anything. He tried to convey this to Rick in the beginning, but his friend was steadfast. He wanted the separation, he wanted his sub to know the absolute extent of their relationship. Rick never budged. "Wow."

"She's been in his room every. single. night." Maggie stares back into his dark eyes with a burning intensity and he starts to get it, "He's tended to her like an orchid. She had him wrapped around her finger after a week. Andrea, Jessie, Rose, Camille, some of his longest relationships, could never get him to budge, on anything. Not even an inch."

"And Michonne?" Morgan asks, remembering back on how that same strong, independent Michonne withered away into the shell that she is now.

Maggie shrugs, another smile spreading across her lips, "She's bloomed. You wouldn't recognize her either. My friend is back." Her smile widens and even Morgan can feel it. He smiles too, "She's inquisitive again. Her quick wit is back, her guard is down, and she is just," She shrugs, shaking her head lightly as words fail her, "My girl is back, and it is all because of Rick fucking Grimes. Isn't that incredible?"

Morgan nods, a faint smile still playing on his lips, "It's good to hear. Michonne deserves all the happiness she can stand."

"That she does." Maggie drops her eyes from him, clearing her throat, "Anyway, my point is, she had a really rough day today."

"The anniversary."

Maggie shoots her eyes back up to his quickly. He remembers. They weren't even together when it happened, but their lives had been so intertwined that her friends where now his. He reached out to both women, offering any and everything he could to help, "Yeah. Mike was there with that twat babysitter they used to have. God, I thought I was going to rip his head right off I was angry. I wanted to. I wanted to gut him for the things he was saying but I didn't have to. I thought she'd cower like she used to, and at first, she started to, but then, I don't know, she just handled it. She didn't need me to fight for her anymore. Then, she called Rick and he dropped everything. He drove an hour and a half, just because she called. He wouldn't even answer Andrea's calls while he was working, let alone leave!" She laughs a little, "Work is work, play time is play time." She mocks Rick, having heard that saying from him time after time. She pauses as their food arrives to the table but neither one makes a move to eat.

Morgan watches as Maggie's eyes drift around the ceiling before landing on him finally. She's looking at him, but she's really not looking at him. Her eyes are full of wonder and confusion, just like his were in the beginning of this evening. She's trying to figure something out, but he's not sure what it is, "Margret?"

Her eyes snap back to attention, focusing in on him, "It got me thinking. Not just today, but almost everyday since Rick took Michonne out to dinner that first time. I'm thinking."

"About me?"

"About us." She answers shyly, "About me. About you, about my life, about where I am and where I want to be." She smiles again as her words continue to flow. She hasn't felt this honest in a long time. "I didn't leave because I wanted to be a Dominant. I enjoy it, I do, but I was just as happy being your sub, if not happier. I know that now. I left because I don't know anything beyond being a sub. I don't know love between a man and a woman. I never saw it in my parents' relationship or any of their friends. If what I saw between my parents was "love", I didn't want it. I got in to this life to spite my father. I got in to this because I didn't think that love was supposed to be in the equation with men like you and Rick and I was perfectly okay with that because from what I saw, love was bullshit." She picks at her fingernails and cuticles, nervous as the words spill out of her, "You filled me in a way I never even imagined. I loved your dominance. I loved your rules and the boundaries." Her voice drops to a near whisper, "I loved everything about my life with you. But then you changed."

"Maggie, I didn't-"

"Let me finish." She holds up her hand and closes her eyes, "You changed. Your rules and your boundaries changed for me and I blamed myself for it. I thought I had something wrong," She laughs sadly as a single tear runs down her cheek, "Isn't that crazy? I was so scared of having you love me that when you proposed to me, I just ran. I just ran and thought that I had made the right decision; until Rick changed too, and then Michonne. Now I'm the only one who's still the same. I thought Michonne was the one that was stuck, but that's not true. It's me. I'm the only one who stuck and is too afraid to change."

"You're not stuck," Morgan reaches across the table and grabs her hand, rubbing his thumb slowly into her palm, "And it's okay to be scared."

She smiles again as more tears streak down her face, "I was your orchid and I ruined it."

Morgan shakes his head and smiles back at her softly, "You're still my orchid, Margret."

He reaches up and wipes underneath her eye, ridding her smooth skin of the moisture from her eyes. She stares at him, her mouth slightly open as he looks back at her. Her mind is mush at this point. This is all a little too much emotion for one day, but she feels better. Look at that. "Did I ever tell you why my dad named me Margret?"

He shakes his head, reclaiming her hand in his, "No."

"I'm named after an asteroid that was discovered in 1937. They've studied it for years and to this day, they can't figure out anything about it. Her shape and her spectral type is still unknown, they can't figure out the rotational period, nothing."

The information makes Morgan chuckle, "Sounds like you."

She laughs in return, "How's that?"

"You don't have to understand everything about something for it to be seen." He raises her hand to his lips and peppers her knuckles with his warm kisses, "I see you, even when you don't understand yourself."

She smiles slowly back at him, peaking at him through her hair as it falls in her face again. Here's to change.

"My dearest Sophia, how are you this morning?" Rick asks with a large smile on his face.

"I'm fine, Rick," Sophia answers, rolling her eyes as his cheerful voice rings through her ears, "But my question to you is where the hell are you? It's ten fifteen and you have meetings all day!"

"So, about that," Rick starts, peaking his eyes over at Michonne. She smiles back at him widely, the wind whipping through her hair and tossing it around her face. Rick returns his focus to the road before them, pulling his topless Jaguar onto the highway as the wind rips through his hair, "You can hold the meetings without me, right?"

"Rick!" Sophia shrieks, glancing over her shoulder to the other two receptionists before she ducks practically under their sprawling desk, "Are you kidding me?"

He grabs Michonne's hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the back of her hand two, three, four times before he links their fingers, "I am not."

"I'm just a receptionist, I don't hold meetings!" She grits through her teeth.

"You're my head receptionist _and_ my personal assistant, don't down play yourself. You know everything that's going on, you'll do fine. You won't even have to talk in most of them. Just make sure that all the projects are still on track."

"And just how do I do that, Mr. Harvard grad?"

Rick laughs out loud. Sophia is sweet but tough, and will set you straight when you need it, "As long as Noah, Tara, and Rosita sound confident, we're still on track. If you have any issues, just text me, okay?"

She sighs loudly, rubbing at her temple with her free hand, "Alright, anything else, Mr. Grimes?"

"Take notes for me when Noah and Gareth start their status update. If Noah does most of the talking, draw up termination papers for Gareth, okay?"

"Oh God." She moans, covering her eyes with her hand.

Rick chuckles, glancing into his rear-view mirror as he switches lanes, "You're the best Sophia. I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah. I better see it in my bonus this year. Anything else, Mr. Grimes?"

"Anything else, babe?" Rick asks Michonne, tilting his head toward her.

"I tried to talk him into going in this morning, Sophia. I really did." Michonne chimes in.

"You know, I was going to ask what has gotten into him, but, now I know." Sophia says, shaking her head and laughing lightly. She's never heard her boss so happy before. It's kind of nice, "Have a good day Mr. Grimes and babe."

Rick ends the call with another chuckle and kisses Michonne's knuckles again before whipping through traffic to pull them away from the city. Michonne has no idea where they are headed but she couldn't turn down his cheery invitation this morning. Her mind is still a little fuzzy from the night before, but she doesn't want to overthink it. She doesn't want to over analysis it. She just wants to enjoy it. She rests her head on his shoulder, letting her hand roam up and down his arm slowly as the warm air whips around her. They drive for over an hour before he exits and heads into the small city of Canton. Before she knows it, they're headed down a dirt road, passing a sign reading Diamond Stables.

Michonne's eyes light up as they push slowly past a group of young girls, all sitting horseback as they take instructions from their teacher. They come to a stop in front of the club house, Rick reaching behind her seat to grab his cooler before they link hands to move inside, "Mr. Grimes!" The older blonde woman calls from behind the desk, "It's been a while. Good to see you!"

Rick tilts his head toward her, picking up a pen from the clipboard on the counter, "Does she hate me?" He laughs, signing his name and pushing the clipboard her way.

The older woman picks his key off the wall and tosses it toward him, "She's a sweetheart. She'll be excited to see you. Have a nice ride you two."

Michonne beams as they move back outside into the sun, barely able to contain her excitement, "You have a horse? You never told me you have a horse!" She practically squeals, jumping up and down as they move toward the stables.

Rick laughs in return, "You think I'm all suits and fancy cars, huh?"

"Well, that's all you've shown me so far. I wouldn't imagine you as a cowboy though."

He laughs, "Far from a cowboy Ms. Moreau, I'm just a good old southern boy."

They move around the corner and into the large stable, passing by horse after very large horse. Their feet crunch on the hay beneath them as they move toward stall thirteen. Rick unlocks the stall and lets the door swing open before he steps inside to the large, tan animal. Michonne stands back and watches him move toward the now snorting horse as she tosses her head slightly back and forth. Rick shushes her softly, reaching toward her nose slowly before his fingers finally come in contact. She neighs loudly and tosses her head from side to side, but he stays calm with her, continuing to shush her as he strokes face and snout.

The animal calms after a moment as he nuzzles into her long neck, "I'm sorry baby." He coos, kissing her quickly before motioning for Michonne.

She enters the stall cautiously, suddenly fully aware that she's never ridden a horse before in her life. Once she's in range, Rick pulls her into him, grabbing her hand and placing it on the horses' nose, "Sugar, this is my girl Michonne. Michonne is my other girl, Sugar."

"Hi Sugar." Michonne murmurs, giggling a little as the horse blows a quick breath out through her nose, shaking her head again.

"She's mad at me." Rick chuckles, resting his head on Michonne's shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist, "I have that effect on woman."

She laughs again, "I couldn't imagine why."

"Let's see if she'll let me saddle her up."

He caresses the large animal for a few more minutes, speaking sweet nothings into her ear until he believes she isn't angry anymore at his seemingly abandonment of her. He grabs his saddle from its hook and throws it over her back, taking a second to gauge Sugars' mood before he continues. Once she's ride ready, he grabs the reigns and guides her out of the stall, walking beside her slowly as the threesome moves back out into the day.

"Have you ever ridden a horse before?" Rick asks, turning toward Michonne.

She snorts as a laugh bubbles up from her stomach, "What about me makes you think that I've been on a horse before?"

Rick points at her, nodding his head sarcastically, "Alright, lesson number one. C'mere." He pulls her into him once more and places Sugars' reigns in her hand, "Okay, face Sugar, left foot in the stirrup," He talks her though the steps, sliding his hand around the curve of Michonne's behind and pinching her quickly before he slides it down to her knee, helping lift her leg and place her foot in the stirrup, "Okay, on three, I'm gonna lift you. Put all of your weight on the foot in the stirrup and just swing your other leg over her back."

Michonne scoffs, "Okay, Harvard grad." She mumbles sarcastically.

Rick chuckles again, shaking his head, "One, two,"

Before he gets to three, he hoists her from the ground causing her to shriek in surprise as she momentarily falls forward into Sugars' ribs. She regains her composure and does just as he asks, although extremely clumsily – nearly falling off the other side. If it weren't for Rick grabbing her ankle as quickly as he did, she would have been face first in the dirt on the other side of this giant horse. Cute. Rick keeps his eyes on her, trying to hide his smirk, "You okay?" He asks cautiously as she tries to settle into the saddle.

"Perfect." Michonne huffs, "Are you getting on here or what?"

"Right behind you, babe."

He mounts the horse, _effortlessly_ , much to Michonne's chagrin, and settles in behind her, pushing his arms underneath hers and grabbing the reigns. He tugs on them slightly, and they're off on a slow trot. Michonne giggles loudly as they bounce up and down with Sugar's footsteps. Rick cuts his eyes toward her, nipping at her earlobe and then chuckling as her laughter grows louder. He guides the horse along the beaten path, passing only two or three other riders before they're truly on their own in the trees. Michonne leans back into him, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he tightens his grip around her waist. They trot slowly as the sun breaks through the trees, splashing on their exposed skin, warming them both. Michonne gazes upon the old trees and grass and flowers as they pass; has the world always been this beautiful?

Rick leads them to an open field, full of lush green grass, swaying softly as the breeze brushes against the blades. He brings Sugar to a stop and slides out from behind Michonne. She slides her smaller hand into his out stretched one and allows him to guide her back down to earth. He pats Sugar on her hind quarters before kissing her snout again. He turns toward Michonne, cupping her cheeks in his large palms, rubbing his thumbs on her smooth skin. She smiles brightly up at him, her eyes almost sparkling in the sunlight as they bounce back and forth between his. He bends down to meet her lips but doesn't kiss her right away; he just lets his lips brush against hers, watching her through his eye lashes as her eyes flutter closed. She smiles again but softer this time, her eyes still closed. Only then does he give in to his lust for her. Only then, does he bring her lips to his.

"You are so beautiful." He murmurs after a moment.

She hums happily, "You too."

Rick smiles in return, his eyes still bouncing back and forth between hers. His fall a little, not much, but enough for Michonne to notice. She places both of her hands on either side of his face and tilts her head up toward his. He looks away from her, his mind beginning to race with uncertainty. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve her. He had a chance once, a wife, a son, and he, he blew it. He blew it all. _You couldn't keep either one of them. What makes you think you can keep her?_

"Rick?" Her voice is calm and soft, bringing him back to the present, back to her.

"Sorry." He mumbles, flashing a quick smile of embarrassment, "Sorry, I-"

"It's okay," She reassures him, "I get those too."

He snaps his eyes toward her, almost in disbelief, "Get what?"

She grabs his hand and pulls him up the hill, past Sugar, who grazes happily, chomping on grass and dandelions. They reach the top and she plops down into the grass, pulling him down beside her. She can feel him watching her as she stares out over the acres of land. The voices and laughter of some kids in the middle of their riding lessons drifts toward them and Michonne smiles again. It's a lovely sound.

"I get those moments where the world just fades away. Everything goes silent, like in the movies, and all you can hear is that weird high-pitched sound." Rick keeps his eyes on her as she talks, amazed that it's not just him that loses time, "And it's just you and that sound and the voices in your head."

"Those voices are nasty." He adds, finally pulling his eyes from her and out onto the kids in the middle of their lesson.

She nods in agreement, "Violent, even." She turns toward him, resting her hand on top of his, "We're here now, and I think we both kind of deserve it." She rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes as his lips plant firm kisses on her forehead.

Minutes pass. He's not sure how many, but enough to where her words have sunk in. He digested them quickly and dug them into the soil of his garden so that every flower that blooms from now on, will be nurtured by them. Fed, watered, and pruned by them. _We're here now._ "I meant what I said last night." His voice is so sudden it scares her a little. She leans up and turns toward him, linking eyes with him again, "I meant what I said." His voice is low and soft, "I love you."

She drops her eyes from his, pushing hair out of her face as she turns back to face the property. She smiles again, biting her bottom lip. She loves the simplicity of the moment. She loves the simplicity of his words. _I meant what I said. I love you._ She turns toward him again, "I know you did. I love you too."

They stare at each other like they've never seen one another before. They both smirk softly, Michonne even letting out a quick laugh before stifling it. It's like their two teenagers. Unsure of exactly what is happening but confident in the fact that it is indeed _happening_. They'll take it day by day, minute by minute, second by second if they must; but they're both ready. Ready to move on and grow up. Ready to leave their pasts behind and forge a new path.

"Have you ever done it outside?"

Michonne snaps her head back toward him, "What?"

He smiles that devilish smile of his, his eyes turning dark and mischievous, "No?"

Her mouth drops open, "Have you?"

"Absolutely."

She laughs, "Why am I not surprised?"

"You've never fucked outside? Like, ever?"

"No!" She shrieks, "I was a district attorney! I can't break the law."

Rick throws his head back in laughter, "Miss goody two shoes."

"Oh, shut up." She swats at his arm with both of her hands, "Not all of us are sexual deviants like you and Maggie."

He pulls her up to her feet, causing her to laugh loudly as he pulls her toward the trees. Once they're hidden in the trees, he pushes her up against a trunk, living in her laughter. He crashes his lips to hers as he snakes his hand up her shirt, teasing her breasts with his fingers. He flips her around quickly, pushing his body into hers. He tangles his hand in her hair and pulls her head back, her moans and ragged breaths feeding his enflamed desire. Michonne pushes hot air out between her teeth as she grips onto the tree, wiggling and pushing her butt into his crotch. He pushes her head forward and runs his hands down her back, his thumbs tracing her spine. He cups her ass in his palms, squeezing her flesh, kneading it with his large hands before sliding his hands around her middle.

He undoes the button of her jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly before he pushes his hands into her panties, "Mmm, baby," He coos into her ear lowly, letting her juices coat his fingers, "All of this sweetness is for me?"

"All for you daddy." She pants in return.

Rick pushes her jeans down her hips, gliding her pink satin panties down with them. He pulls himself free of his own jeans, stroking himself a few times as the scent of her arousal reaches his nostrils. Without so much of a warning, he pushes into her, jolting her forward into the tree. Her gasp sends a shiver down his spine. He bucks into her from behind, gripping her hips in his hands firmly as he pulls nearly his entire length out of her. He slams into her again and she grunts loudly, her back sinking inward slightly as she grips onto the tree. His pace is hard and fast as he fucks her up against that old tree. Her moans filling the air, mixing with his as sweet Sugar continues to graze just beyond the trees.

Their tryst in the trees is a quick one. Rick slams into her one last time and empties his hot seed into her tight body. She comes just from the feeling of him spilling into her. She falls back into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her face toward the sky as the sun beats down on them. Rick wraps his arms around her waist and squeezes her to him, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. He kisses her gently as she rakes her fingers up and down his forearm, scratching her nails along his naturally tanned skin. He sways them back and forth gently and slowly, sweeping her hair out of her face to continue to kiss her along the side of her face and cheek.

"I'm hungry." She lets out softly, garnering a chuckle from him.

"Are you serious? After all of that, that's all you have to say?"

She giggles with him, "You haven't fed me since breakfast. What's a girl to do?"

"Wow." He laughs, pulling away from her and zipping himself back up.

He helps her with her jeans, pulling them back up to her waist and reaching around her to button and zip them properly. He smacks her butt and grabs her hand, pulling them both back out to the pasture. Michonne plops back down, lying in the grass, splaying her hand across her stomach as she takes a deep, happy breath. Rick heads back for Sugar, unhooking the cooler to bring it back to his hungry companion. The pair eat slowly, loosing track of the day; Rick not even realizing that he left his phone in the cup holder of his car. Carol swears under her breath as she boards her private flight to Long Beach, California.

"Rick, this is Carol," She starts as she gets sent to his voicemail, "I thought I told you to stay local. Anyway, I'm headed to Long Beach to check out this lead. If my hunch is right, we may have something. Call me."

She slips her phone into her jacket pocket as she takes her seat, opening the manila folder to read over the documents inside. A small 3x5 picture of Director of Health Eugene Porter is paper clipped to his full profile and background check. Carol takes a deep breath before flipping the picture up and out of the way. It's been a long few weeks since she first asked her superior for the warrants. The handwriting analysis warrant came back almost immediately, but the department was backlogged almost a month. Good thing special agent Peletier has some clout. After another week, her hunch was satisfied; Carl Hayes' birth certificate was indeed signed by hand. Another warrant and two more weeks later, here she is, with Eugene Porter's entire life sitting in her lap. She has a long flight and an even longer night to get acquainted with Mr. Porter before she decides to pay him a little visit. Little does he know; he's about to have a very bad day.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey! An update that didn't take three and a half years! As always, I just want to thank you all for your kind reviews and all of the love I receive here and over at tumblr. You guys rock, but you know that already. The soundtrack has been updated, so if you want, head over to tumblr to check it out. If you don't have tumblr and wanna hear it, pm me here and I'll send ya the link :). Happy reading!**

* * *

 **Twenty Three.**

It's warm in Long Beach this time of year. Special agent Carol Peletier sips on her coffee at the Starbucks right across the street from the Long Beach Registrar's building. She sits at the long bar, right in front of the window, as she picks at her blueberry muffin, her eyes scanning over Eugene Porters' background once more. Sure, she was up pretty much all night going over his entire life, but she doesn't want to miss anything. On paper, he doesn't seem like the kind of guy that would mix himself with the likes of Shane Walsh or Lori Grimes. He's straight laced and all business it seems; but if Carol has learned anything in last twenty-five years, it's that everybody has a price. The buyer just needs to put enough zero's behind it.

She flicks her eyes up to the street before she finishes off her black coffee in one last gulp. She throws what's left of her muffin away and slams the thick manila folder shut before scooping it underneath her arm. She heads for the door, stopping only momentarily to run her free hand through her short, grey hair as she catches her reflection in the door. She's excited. It's days like today that have kept her going all these years. She just loves scaring the shit out of people and getting answers at the same time. Hell, even if she doesn't get any answers, it's still kind of worth it to see the fear in people's eyes. She jogs across the street, watching the traffic as she moves, and pushes through the glass door of the registrar's office with a large gust of wind. She flashes a misleading smile to the young woman behind the counter.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, I sure hope you can." Carol starts, cheery and smiley, "Is Eugene Porter in office today?"

The young brunette drops her eyes to the laptop sitting on her desk, "He is, but he doesn't have any appointments scheduled for today," She answers as she drags her eyes across the computerized calendar, "Can I give him a message or schedule something for you?"

"Sure." Carol shrugs, still smiling as widely as she can, "What times does he have for today?"

The brunette laughs a little, "Today? He doesn't have any openings for today. I can get you in Monday of next week?"

"I thought you said he doesn't have any appointments today?"

"He doesn't," She answers, shifting her eyes slightly, "But that doesn't mean that he can take walk-ins off the street."

"It doesn't?" Carol asks, "Why is that?"

The brunette smirks out of irritation before batting her pretty brown eyes, "That's just not how we do things around here. I can get you on his calendar for next Monday."

Carol clicks her tongue a little and rubs her chin. Carol doesn't like that tone. "You know," She starts, digging in her jacket pocket for a second, adding a little suspense to this charade she's putting on. She pulls out her badge and lets it flop open as she leans up against the desk, watching as the girls' eyes widen, "That's really not going to work for me or my warrant here. So, I'll ask you again," Her voice is low and menacing despite that fact that another smile has crept on her face, "Does he have any openings for today? Jacqueline?"

Jacqueline nods nervously, picking up her phone and dialing an extension, "Mr. Porter, there's an agent-"

"Special Agent." Carol cuts in.

Jacqueline clears her throat, "There's a _Special_ Agent here to speak with you… I don't know, she didn't say… ok… alright." She stands, throwing her hair over her shoulder, "Mr. Porter will be right out, please take a seat."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Carol coos, declining to sit.

Within seconds, she hears footsteps heading in her direction, causing her to turn toward the sound. She holds up her badge again, right next to her smiling face as Eugene Michael Porter approaches, outstretching his hand toward her. She declines to take that too, "I'm Special Agent Carol Peletier. Do you have a room we can speak in?"

"I do bu-"

"Lead the way."

He turns awkwardly, eyeing the now silent Jacqueline as she shrugs quickly before he heads back down the long hallway, Carol right on his heels. He stops outside of his office door and hold out his arm for her to enter. She walks in as if she owns it, throwing her file down on his desk and walking up to the wall behind his desk to eye his college diploma. She places her hands behind her back and smirks a little as she moves slowly around his office, Eugene's eyes following her the whole time.

"Mrs." He drags out the word slowly, hoping that she'll supply the rest.

"Special Agent Peletier." Carol states, turning on her heels to face him once more, "No Mrs."

"My apologies." He bows his head slightly before clearing his throat, "How may I help you today?"

Carol smiles again, "Why don't you have a seat, hmm?"

Eugene shifts his eyes slightly but obliges, walking awkwardly to his desk to claim his seat. Carol sits down and leans back in the chair. She grabs her folder and flips it open, moving his picture out of the way, "I can call you Eugene?"

"Of course."

"Eugene. I'm not going to beat around the bush here for very long; I don't really have the patience for any of that anymore." She flicks her eyes back to his, looking him squarely in the eye, "I was assigned a missing child case seventeen, going on eighteen years ago now. A boy, from King County, Georgia." She closes the file and tilts her head slightly, "Have you ever heard of King County?"

Eugene opens his mouth slightly, his eyes widening as he shakes his head slowly, "I have not. I'm sorry."

Carol nods her head slowly as well, pursing her lips, "You didn't think about that for very long."

"I'm from Arizona. I've never been further East than Dallas, so, I don't need very long to recall that."

"Ah, okay." She shrugs, smiling back at him. She starts rifling through her papers before sliding an old picture of Lori toward him, "This is the mother of the missing boy. Does she look familiar to you?"

Eugene Porter is no dummy. She watches as he picks up the picture and studies it for a minute or two. He was too eager about not knowing about King County and she picked up on it. He picked up on her little comment and now knows that she _knows_. He's not sure exactly _what_ she knows, but he knows that she knows, "I don't think so, no." He slides the picture back toward her, "I'm not sure why you're here for a missing kid in Georgia."

Carol ignores his question and pulls out another picture, this time holding it up for him to see, "This is the man that we believe the mother left with. He look familiar to you?"

He studies the picture and shrugs, even smirks a little, "No. I'm Sorry."

"Ok." Carol says, "We'll go a different route. You want to know why I'm here look for a missing boy from Georgia?" He nods, "I think this boy has turned back up. I think he's right under my nose. Low and behold, on a random call one afternoon from the boys' father, I learn about a kid named Carl. Coincidentally, this missing boy, his name too is Carl." She pauses, tapping her fingers on his desk, "A Carl Hayes has started working at some coffee shop in downtown Atlanta, just minutes from where the father of the missing kid works. The dad, Rick, didn't want me to pry into this one but of course, I couldn't help myself. Turns out, all of Carl Hayes' records are sealed, except for his birth certificate." She pulls out a copy and stands, sliding it toward the quiet man, "A birth certificate that you signed."

Eugene picks up the paper slide in his direction and eyes it carefully before flipping his eyes back up toward the gray-haired woman, "I certify thousands of birth certificates a month. I don't understand the correlation you're trying to make."

"By hand?" Carol questions, her eyes squinting, "You sign thousands of birth certificates by hand?"

"Of course not. I have a –"

"Stamp." Carol finishes for him, "That's what I thought at first too, but thankfully there is a whole department employed by the FBI that does handwriting analysis and comparisons." She points toward the birth certificate, "You signed that one by hand." She states firmly, "There are absolutely zero indicators that that is a stamp. No imperfections, no nicks, no smudges, no extra ink, no dry spots… nothing. I have a full report here if you'd like to read it."

She slams the thick document on his desk with a thud, causing him to jump slightly. He eyes it, even pulls it a little closer to him, but doesn't open it. He just turns his eyes back up toward hers, "So, I'll try again. You signed this by hand, correct?" Carol asks.

He doesn't answer. He drops his eyes to a random spot behind her and bites his bottom lip as the wheels in his brain begin to spin. Carol lets him think through his options before she decides to just lay them out straight for him. She leans on the desk with one hand, her eyes dark and piercing into him, "Eugene. This isn't going to end well for you. At best, you've committed fraud. Maybe you were threatened, made to feel that if you didn't help them they'd do physical harm to you. You could keep your job, your license, your reputation, if that's the case. At worst, you excepted a bribe, you aided and abetted fugitives, you've aided the commission of a crime, along with at least half a dozen more. You'll lose your job, they'll revoke your license, so when you do get out of prison, you'll be working at Pizza Hut." She tilts her head to the side a little, "Would you like me to go on?"

He sighs loudly, closing his eyes, "No."

"Then it's your choice. Where you go from now, how you answer my questions, is all up to you." She shrugs, shaking her head, "I'm not after you, Mr. Porter. You are just another piece of the puzzle. I just want Shane Walsh and Lori Grimes. I want to reunite that boy with his father. I don't want you, neither does the state of California or Georgia." She continues to stare at him, willing him to break, "I'm going to ask you again. You signed that birth certificate by hand, yes?"

Eugene places his chin in his palm, still biting at his lip. He blinks a few times before mumbling, "Yes."

"When?"

He shrugs, "A few years ago. I can't remember exactly when."

"Who approached you?" He grows silent again, "Eugene." She draws out slowly.

"Shane." He answers quietly.

She could shit. Seventeen years and she finally caught a fucking break. She takes a breath but keeps her composure, "How?"

"He uh, he called me one day out of blue."

"Did you know him before all of this?"

He nods slowly, his eyes returning to the random spot on the wall, "Yes. I was born in Arizona but moved to Georgia when I was ten. I had an older brother that went to the academy with him in Atlanta. I didn't recognize the name at first but, he rekindled some memories."

She lets him pause, "Go on." She says after a moment.

"He wanted to me to meet at bar, so I did, and at first, it was just buddy buddy kind of stuff. Catching up, talking, laughing, and then the conversation turned to this woman and a kid. He was ten, maybe twelve at the time. They were running from her abusive husband and the guy had threatened to kill her if he found them. They needed a new set of paperwork to try and keep the kid hidden."

"And, you just obliged?" Carol asks, squinting her eyes, "After not seeing this man for years?"

"Not at first. Believe it or not, I hadn't ever done anything like that before. I told him I couldn't help him but maybe I could help him find somebody that could produce some fakes. He said that wasn't good enough." He drops his head and lets out another breath, "He gave me an envelope with ten thousand dollars in it, said I'd never hear from him again, that it'd be just that one time. He said that I'd be helping her get out of a really bad situation, and I just," He stops again, knowing he's about to seal his fate, "I needed the money. I had, I had a drinking problem and a gambling addiction and people were after me. I needed the money, I wanted to help, so, I made the papers and signed them."

"The name," Carol points specifically at the surname, "Hayes. Does that mean something?"

He shakes his head, "No. I asked him if he wanted something specific and he said no. Hayes is my mother's maiden name."

Carol takes a breath. Holy shit. Holy shit! "And this name? Isabelle Vineyard?"

"He gave me that information specifically. They wanted to change her name to make it harder for the husband to find her and they didn't want me to list a father, so I didn't."

Carol lifts the picture of Shane again. This is it. This is the moment that she's been thinking of for seventeen years. All Eugene Porter has to do is say his name and she's beaten this long game of chess between her and Lori. She's won. "This is?"

"Shane Walsh."

She lifts the picture of Lori next, "And this?"

 _Eugene pulls up in his jeep, putting the car in park before he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. His stomach is in knots. This is wrong. This is so wrong. If he ever got caught… fuck, he doesn't want to think about it. He's helping a friend, that's all. His eyes dart around the empty parking lot as the radio hums softly in the background. Within a few minutes, a Bronco pulls in, the headlights turning off almost immediately. Eugene cuts his engine and steps out as the Bronco comes to a stop a few rows over, a tall, hat clad man stepping out. He moves toward Shane, shaking his hand once he gets within reach._

 _Shane pulls him into a quick hug, letting out a nervous laugh, "I wasn't sure you'd help us. Thank you, man."_

 _Eugene shrugs, handing over the letter sized envelope, "Not a problem, I'm just trying to help."_

 _He shifts his gaze to the woman in the front seat. Her hair is red. Her eyes are big and brown and soft. She's a pretty girl, almost too pretty for Shane. She looks nervous, scared even, but she manages to smile and lift her hand to wave. He waves back slightly before turning back to Shane, "That's her?"_

" _Yeah, that's uh, that's Lori. Well," He chuckles a little, "Isabelle. That's Carl in the back."_

 _Eugene leans to the side to eye the back seat and there sits a brown-haired boy, his head down as he reads a comic. A little girl sits next to him, singing along to the radio as she bops her head and stares out the window to the other side of the street, "She's yours?"_

 _Shane smiles slowly, lowering his head a little, "Yeah, that's my girl Judy. I don't want to hold you up any more than I already have. Thank you again. Thank you so much. You'll never hear from us again, I swear it."_

" _It's no problem, really. Thank you for the, you know."_

 _Shane nods and opens the door to the Bronco. Eugene waves one last time at Lori and turns on his heels, letting out a breath as he moves back toward his jeep. You did a good thing. You did a good thing. He must have repeated that to himself a million times, but he never fully believed it._

"That's Lori, or Isabelle. He even had the kids with him that night."

Carol arches one of her eyebrows, "Kids? As in plural?"

"Yeah. A boy and a girl. Carl and," He squints trying to remember the name, "Judy, I think."

Judy? Who in the fuck is Judy? Carol purses her lips at the revelation but reminds herself that she needs to stay focused on the task at hand. They'll figure Judy out later, "Where did they go?"

"I don't know. I never heard from him again, just like he promised."

"You know where they were coming from? How long they had been in California?"

"Um," He starts nervously, racking his brain for answers, "I think Texas? I'm not sure, but he mentioned El Paso when he first contacted me. I think they'd only been here for a few months." He rubs his forehead before dropping his hand heavily into his lap, "That's all I know. You can subpoena my phone records, my bank accounts, whatever."

"I already have. I believe you." Eugene's eyes grow wide again as he stares back at her, "Warrants are a girl's best friend." She shrugs.

It grows silent between the two of them again as Carol begins to gather up her folder. Eugene swallows harshly, his stomach doing somersaults as he waits for her to speak again, "So? What happens now? Are you going to arrest me?"

Carol shrugs, tucking the folder under her arm, "Not yet. I told you, we don't want you, we just want the boy. I wouldn't leave town though. I'll be in touch."

She turns on her heel and high tails it out of the building, not even acknowledging the still frazzled Jacqueline. She slams her thumb down on her phone and pulls it to her ear as she hurries down the street back to her hotel. The phone rings three times before her superior answers.

"Special Agent."

"It's him." She huffs into the phone as her brisk walk turns into a jog.

"Who's him?"

"Carl Hayes." She stresses, "Porter crumbled like a cookie. The birth certificate is a fake. I'm on my way back to Atlanta."

"Slow down, Peletier. Explain."

Carol rolls her eyes in frustration, "Porter was contacted by Shane Walsh, the second suspect in the case. He recognized his photo, called him out by name. He even recognized a picture of Lori. He said that Shane gave him some story about her trying to get away from an abusive ex husband and they needed some new papers."

"So, Carl Hayes is-"

"Carl Grimes. Porter said that the night that he and Shane met up, they had the boy with them. A boy named Carl. Do you get it now?"

"Watch it, Peletier."

"Hayes is a fake last name. Porter was met by a Shane and Lori with a kid named Carl. I don't know about you, but that's a little too damn serendipitous for me."

The voice is silent for a minute or two, mulling over the information that was given to him. She's right. He's not a fan of coincidences, "What do you need?"

"A warrant and a team. I can send some men to the home and I'll converge on the coffee shop."

The voice sighs, "Done. Both will be ready when you touch down in Atlanta for a briefing."

"Thank you, sir."

"Peletier?"

She stops just as she pushes through into the lobby of her hotel, "Sir?"

"If this is it, if this is the end of this," he pauses, "Good work."

The line goes dead.

* * *

Night has fallen over the city of Atlanta. The radio plays gently in the kitchen as Michonne flips their burgers in his fancy skillet. She dressed in nothing but her black Calvin Klein bralette and matching cotton thong. Her hair is pulled into a loose pony tail, random dreads falling to her shoulders and in her face as she cooks. Rick sits at the bar, his face buried in his laptop, his eyes shifting from the screen to the small pad next to him as he scribbles down his notes. He tosses his pencil down and clicks on an email from Sophia from the day before.

 _I took the liberty in typing up my notes from YOUR meetings this afternoon and also attached Gareth's termination papers. He's trash. – S._

Rick chuckles to himself, the smile remaining on his face as he reads over her rather impressive and comprehensive notes over the several meetings she held. Shit, he doesn't even pay this close attention in these meetings. This girl needs a new role, and a raise. He skips down to Noah and Gareth's portion, noting her sarcasm and slight distaste for Gareth throughout. She notes how confident Noah sounded and how he has an eye for detail. For Rick, that's enough. He slams his fist on his laptop twice before starting his reply to Sophia.

"What are you grinning for other there?" Michonne asks, peeking through the tendrils of her hair at him, a smirk on her face.

"I get to fire someone."

She scoffs loudly but giggles, "That's fucked up. You like firing people?"

He shrugs, "I mean, I don't _like it_ , like it but this guy is a tool. He's been a pain in my ass since I hired him." He points at her with a smile, "His firing is a long time coming, believe you me."

She laughs again, and he returns to his email, letting his fingers glide across the keyboard with ease before he sends it. He shuts his MacBook Pro with a soft click and sets his eyes back on his real meal; the dark skinned, nearly naked queen before him. He watches as her muscles flex as she moves, her breasts bouncing and jiggling as she seasons the searing meat. She turns on the balls of her feet to pull open the fridge, giving him a full few of her beautifully toned back and ample behind. A thing of beauty that booty is. He almost wants to drop down to his knees and thank the good lord above for blessing this world with such a great ass. He tilts his eyes as he zeros in on that ass, and then down those long legs as she searches for whatever the hell she's looking for. He even likes her ankles. Her fucking ankles are sexy. Which reminds him, it's been a whole twenty-four hours since they've been around his ears. It's time to change that.

He stands from his seat at the bar and moves like a lion, quietly and precisely, until she's within his grasp. He pulls her back into him, causing her to jump and giggle as he wraps his arms around her waist. He dips his head down to her shoulder and neck, nipping and sucking at her skin as his hands caress the smooth skin of her exposed stomach. Michonne leans into him and rests her head on his broad shoulder as she bites her lip. She reaches up and lets her fingers tangle in her curls, running them through the full length of it. He kisses the side of her face to distract her from his curious fingers as they inch closer and closer to the rim of her thong.

"You are an insatiable man." She coos, her body already starting to react to him.

"That's a bad thing?" He whispers huskily into her ear, biting on her ear lobe.

She shakes her head slowly, "I never said that."

Rick chuckles against her neck before he kisses her moisturized skin, smacking on her loudly. He guides one of hands back up her stomach, in between her breasts, and up to her neck, wrapping his long fingers around it. He squeezes slightly and Michonne inhales sharply at the pressure.

"Okay?" He mumbles heavily as his body begins to heat up. She nods quickly but doesn't articulate the words. He lets up on the pressure and she whines slightly, "Tell Daddy you're okay." He urges.

"I'm okay Daddy." She huffs, backing into him just to stimulate him more.

He returns the pressure to her neck, constricting her airway slightly. He bucks his still covered hips into her bare behind, thrusting her forward. She gasps again as her eyes close. She reaches up and splays her hand on his as he grips her throat. She's a little surprised at how good this feels, the pressure, the slight panic in her stomach as the air in her lungs falters ever so slightly. She's safe. She knows it. She feels it. She can feel his eyes peering at the side of her face so she lets her head fall back fully on his shoulder, allowing him a full view of her face and neck. Her mouth drops open for him as she sways her hips slowly to the music streaming from Alexa. Rick smiles slowly, his body stirring to life with her movements. He keeps his fingers wrapped around her throat, applying a steady pressure, as he leans down to kiss her. She moves up to meet his mouth, but he pulls away, both teasing and warning her all at once. He's in control.

She settles back into him and relaxes, heeding his subtle warning. He stares down at her, his eye lids so heavy that he's basically looking at her through the slits of his eye lashes. He leans down into her again and opens his mouth as he stops centimeters above her still open mouth. He just breathes her in for a minute, catching her breath in his mouth as she exhales. Everything about her is sweet. Her smell, her breath, her juices… everything. He connects their lips finally, enveloping her mouth with his. He sticks his tongue into her wet mouth, licking his tongue slowly along the inside of her full bottom lip. She shivers. She moans into him. She fights the urge to push her hands into his hair as he absolutely devours her. He pulls away and tilts his head to the side, looking down on her just to admire her. His eyes fall from her face and down that long neck to her perky breasts.

Her nipples pop through the thin material holding them in but just seeing her thick buds makes his fingers itch. He snakes his free hand from her waist and up to her succulent mounds of flesh. He cups her first, squeezing her right breast before focusing his fingers on that pretty, perfect, round, nipple. Her rubs it at first. Slowly, in a circular motion with just his index finger. Then, once it's fully erect, he begins tweaking and pulling at it with his thumb, index, and middle fingers. He peers back down at her and tightens his grip on her throat again, suddenly, causing her to gasp and his dick to jump as her throat constricts. She lets out a labored breath but hums softly to herself, trying to stay centered and focused.

"You are so good baby." He murmurs into her ear.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You are very welcome. In fact, you've earned yourself a treat."

"A treat, Daddy?"

"Mmm hmm." He coos, backing out from behind her, "You like Daddy's spankings?" Her breath catches in her throat as her body tightens from anticipation. Her eyes grow wide as she bites her lip and nods seductively, "You gotta say it baby. Tell me how much you like Daddy's spankings."

"I love Daddy's spankings." She says lowly as butterflies begin to float through her.

Rick leans into her, placing his hand on his ear, a smirk on his face, "I didn't hear you?"

"I love Daddy's spankings." She said loudly, her eyes on his, her hands still by her sides.

He lips curl in a toothless smile before he winks at her, "Turn around, place your palms and forearms flat on the island and bend over."

She does exactly as she's instructed. She turns slowly and places her left, and then her right palm on the cool island in front of her. Rick turns his attention toward the cooking food, removing it from the fire, before he turns back, just in time to watch her bend slowly over the Italian marble island in the middle of his kitchen. He walks up behind her, pushing his dick into her ass cheeks as he places his hands on either side of her hips.

"Eyes forward." He says lightly, pushing his hand up to her lower spine before he runs it along the length of her back, "How many do you want baby?"

"Ten, Sir." She says confidently as she stares at the wall opposite her.

Rick's eyebrow quirks toward the ceiling but a smirk plays on his lips, "Ten?"

"Please Sir."

He tilts his head again as he squeezes her butt before he jiggles her flesh in his hands playfully, "Alright then. Count with me baby."

"Yes Sir."

He rubs her behind gently for a few seconds, warming her skin before he lifts his hand into the air. Suddenly he drops it, slapping her skin as she lurches forward with the spank, "One." She hisses as he rubs at her stinging flesh again.

He spanks her again, this time on the left side. Before she can get out her count, he spanks her quickly again. He waits for a moment, peaking around her as she squirms, "I can't hear you, Michonne."

"Three." She pushes out quickly as her heart begins to beat against her chest.

Four, five, and six come in quick succession. She pants like a dog beneath him, her palms sweaty as her fingers try to grip the marble beneath her. A wet spot stains her underwear, causing the material to stick to her wet lips. Her nectar splashes against her thighs as the thin material of her thong teases her engorged clitoris. His stubborn erection doesn't help her arousal as it brushes against her swollen lips from behind. Her breath is ragged as seven and eight burns into her now hot, seared skin. Rick rubs his hands along her reddening bottom. He loves how hot the skin gets when it's irritated. He loves watching the brown hue of her skin turn red. She's going to be sore tomorrow, she might even bruise a little; but he loves that too.

He slaps her behind again and watches it jiggle as she throws her head back in euphoria, "Nine, Sir."

"Does it feel good baby?"

"Oh God," She growls, the words scratching against the back of her throat, "Yes Daddy."

He bites his bottom lip as he leans forward, pushing his body against hers, "Tell me you love me."

"I love you." She announces with zero hesitation, "I love you Daddy."

He spanks her for the final time, saving the hardest for last. She howls as the enticing pain rips through her body. She pants harshly and loudly as her eyes flutter, almost in delirium, "Ten." She swallows harshly as she lets her eyes close and a smile spread across her face, "I love you."

Rick falls to his knees, his hands still on her butt and hips as he leans in to plant kisses along her agitated flesh, "You can relax baby." He coos, biting at her thigh a little before he returns to his kisses.

She presses her forehead to the cool marble as she continues to push rough, hot air out of her mouth. She stretches her arms out and wiggles her fingers before she rolls her head to rest her cheek against the island. She smiles lazily as he kisses her and gently rubs her skin, her eyes closing slightly as he soothes her. He buries his nose in between her lips, kissing her hot, sticky sex before wraps his long fingers around her ankle. He drags his hand up her long leg, stopping momentarily to tickle the back of her knee, before it continues its journey to her promise land. Michonne jerks slightly at the tickle, a giggle escaping her. Rick pushes his fingers up her thigh and then right in between her legs, letting them slip along her silky folds as he begins to massage her bud. She takes another quick breath, inhaling audibly as she picks her head up.

"You still wanna play baby?" He asks quietly.

He could take it easy on her. He woke her up exceptionally early, by her standards anyway, today. She could use a good sleep. He kisses her again, right in the slight curve of where her buttock ends and her thigh begins and decides that he won't punish her if she refuses like he usually would. He stands and grabs her hand, pulling her up and turning her to face him. He wraps his hands around her waist and kisses her nose, "You're sleepy." He states.

She peers up at him through her eyelashes, biting her bottom lip as her eyes bounce back and forth between his. Her mama didn't raise no bitch. She steps out from in front of him and heads for the stairs, stopping momentarily to look over her shoulder at him. She pulls at the bottom of her bra, lifting it over her head in one single motion and tosses it to the floor before she begins moving again. Rick smiles. _That's my girl._ He follows slowly behind her, his eyes concentrated on that ass once more as she struts through his apartment elegantly. She fixes her pony tail as she walks, swooping up the loose tendrils into the hair tie just as she steps onto his second floor. She drops her hands to her sides and lets them move with her as her feet carry her past his bedroom and toward his playroom. She pushes through the threshold and drops down to her knees, placing her hands on her thighs and lowering her head.

He moves in behind her and pushes on the door, causing it to close with a soft click. He steps around her and moves down the two steps toward the sprawling bed. He pulls out of his black t- shirt, tossing it to the floor, and then sheds his basketball shorts, leaving himself in only his white and gold Versace boxer briefs. He stands there for a moment, contemplating just how he wants to fuck her tonight. Doggy style with her hands tied behind her back? He could shackle her to the bed, both wrists and ankles, leaving her spread eagle. Maybe some mutual masturbation, perhaps? Or, he could just let her sit on his face and have her ride his nose and tongue until she drenches him in her juices. Maybe he should just ask her.

"Baby?" He calls over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his wall of toys.

"Sir?"

He gazes along the various ropes and scarves, his shiny assortment of handcuffs glinting underneath the lights over the bed, "Would you rather my mouth or my cock tonight?"

Michonne smiles devilishly as she stares at the door, "A little of both sound nice, Sir."

"Hm," He hums as he places his hands on his hips, "Handcuffs? Rope?"

"Handcuffs."

She didn't even hesitate. _That's my fucking girl._ He plucks a pair off the wall and struts back toward her, holding out his hand over her shoulder, "Come."

She slips her hand into his and allows him to help her up and guide her further into the room. He moves her over to the wall and positions her just in front of it, before reaching above her head to pull down the gold and mahogany infused ceiling grate. It clicks into position above her head.

"Hands up please." Rick coos.

She does as she's instructed; lifting her arms over her head and outstretching her fingers. He pulls down on the grate and lowers it one more notch until the tips of her fingers can run along the gold crisscrossed metal. He steps up to her, close enough to where her chest bumps into his when she inhales and the bulge in his expensive undies rubs against her sex. He places both of his big hands on her naked sides, running them along her exposed skin, tickling her softly. She bites back the smile that threatens to spread on her face but keeps her eyes on his as his fingers skirt up her extended arms. He slaps a pair of the cuffs on her wrist and closes it tightly, sending his eyes quickly back down to hers. She nods just once, and he connects it to the grate above her. He repeats the motion to her left hand and then pulls on her wrists to test the hold. He steps back. He just looks at her.

She's is stunning just standing there before him, cool, calm, and collected. His hands are on her waist again, slipping underneath the rim of her Calvin Klein's and sliding them down her legs as he kneels before her. He lifts her right foot and then her left to help her out of thin thong and discards them. He buries his face in between her legs as he holds onto her hips and lets his tongue slither out to taste her. His fingers soon follow his pink tongue as he pulls back away from her and lets his digits rub along her wet folds. He peaks up at her in all her glory. Her head tilted back, her mouth open, her nipples once again hard and thick. He reaches up to palm her breast as his fingers continue to push along her femininity.

He lowers his head down, tilting it to the side to gaze at her shiny, wet, _lady,_ "You know," He starts calmly, his fingers still working her, "You should stop shaving for a while."

Michonne lets her head fall forward slightly before throwing it back up as the electricity in her body begins to bounce back and forth against her walls, "Why is that, Sir?" She asks quietly before taking a slow, deep breath.

Rick shrugs a little, "I think I'd like a little hair on you." He looks up at her again, pinching her clit between his fingers, causing her to jerk and squeal, "I want to rub my fingers through it. Deal?"

"Deal." She barely gets out as she nods frantically, "No shaving."

Rick smiles, "Good girl."

He moves back in, flicking his tongue against her before he sucks her lips into his mouth. He laps at her like a thirsty dog, swirling his tongue around her pearl. He moves back to lick his lips quickly and dives back in again, flattening his tongue along her. She pushes her hips into his face and mouth as she pulls on her restraints. She loves how the metal bites into her skin. He pushes his fingers inside of her and pumps them a few times before he curls them within her body. He keeps his mouth on her as he continues to fuck her with his fingers, switching between long and deep strokes to short, quick ones. Her walls begin to tighten around him. She's ready for part two.

Rick stands and spins her around quickly, her arms crossing over head as she suddenly faces the wall. She feels his hands on her waist again as he presses against himself right up against her butt. He wraps his fingers around her pony tail and pulls back slowly, her head craning toward the ceiling. With his free hand, he slips it along her spine until it's in the center of her back. He pushes slightly, and she bends with the pressure, allowing her back to arch inward. It's an awkward position but his now rock-hard erection shows her that he is thoroughly enjoying this new pose. So, she closes her eyes and focuses once again. She can handle anything. He pushes out of his tight boxers, his erection springing free and slapping against her butt cheek.

"You've had my mouth," He whispers, "And my fingers as a bonus." He positions himself right at her opening, threatening his impending invasion of her body, "Now you get my…"

He slams into her forcefully and she mewls in the most animalistic of ways. The sound scratches at her throat like a demon trying to escape the gates of hell. It's a sound and quite frankly a feeling that they are both getting used to from her. It is scrumptious; for him and for her. He forges into her again but this time, she bares down against him, meeting him half way. She whines as he pushes into her with all the power he can muster. The handcuffs clink against the metal of the grate as they both scrape and slide along it. It mixes with their natural sounds just beautifully. Rick grabs onto her shoulder with one hand, and slips the other around her neck again, slowly applying pressure until he can hear the strain in her breath. He can almost _feel_ the air chafing her throat.

"Tell me you're okay baby." He grunts as he continues his deep stroke.

She opens her mouth, but a heavy gasp comes out instead of words. She literally almost can't breathe but it's oddly intoxicating. The fact that he's got her hovering between two existences. She could pass out. She really could but he's pressing just hard enough, yet, not hard enough at all to keep her lucid. That, is the art of ultimate control.

"I'm okay." She grumbles while nodding her head, "I'm okay."

He slams into her again, tightening his grip on her shoulder as he keeps his other hand around her throat. Her gasps intensify as he constricts her breathing, but the sound absorbs him like a warm blanket. He hasn't enjoyed himself like this in years. He feels like himself again. Her body shudders, sending a jolt right down his spine, causing his hips to falter ever so slightly. She's close. Rick lowers his head, his hair falling into his face as he focuses in on his one and only purpose; making her come. He releases her shoulder to tug on her hair, craning her neck once more as her pleas for release turn to almost panic.

Michonne's head spins as she struggles to breathe but the threat of her impending orgasm keeps her present in the moment. Her stomach begins to churn from anxiety and lust and fear and rapture. Her orgasm starts building in the pit of her stomach as her walls tighten around his solid length. As if he can read her mind, he slithers his hand down to her heat and instantly begins to massage her throbbing core. He presses his fingers to her sticky center and rubs her in circles, before pulling on her softly. He goes back to rubbing her in fast circles again as he continues to spear her, pushing her higher and higher. Her eyes flutter as her heart pounds against her chest suddenly; sweat popping out on her brow. She pulls on the cuffs holding her to the grate above her head with all of her strength as her orgasm rips through her at a ferocious speed.

Her mind is reduced to mush as her body stiffens. She shrieks loudly and balls her fists as Rick's fingers and dick milk her of every last drop of her juices. She feels another rush through her veins as mini eruptions move through her. She's not even sure when or if Rick finishes, she too busy trying to wrestle her soul back into her body. She keeps her head tilted toward the ceiling, her eyes closed, her lips parted as her ragged breaths escape her. She tenses suddenly as he tightens his grip on her throat, causing her to gasp deeply, her eyes widening. He spills into her seconds later, sending his hot seed into her abyss in forceful spurts. He lowers his head to her back and presses his forehead to her sweaty skin as his hips jerk uncontrolled.

His hand falls from her neck and she takes a few coughing breaths. Rick steadies himself using her hips as he pulls his length out of her. He turns her slowly, uncrossing her arms from over her head so that she's facing him again. She drags her eyes up to his as her chest still rises and falls harshly, still breathing through her mouth. Her fingers flex and then relax as she blinks. Rick takes a step back to just watch her breathe. He swallows harshly and matches her ragged breaths with his own as his eyes roam along her naked body. He loves the very curve of her. How her ribs show slightly as her sides dip in before widening again at her hips. She crosses her legs; not out of being shy, but just wanting to tease him a bit. He smiles quickly at her, but it fades away just as fast. He moves up to her again, his footsteps heavy against the hardwood floor beneath him. He takes her face in his hands and rubs his thumbs on the corners of her mouth. His blue eyes bounce back and forth between hers as she stares back at him in admiration.

"You make me so happy." He says quietly, his lips curling up into a slight smile.

She hums as her face breaks into a wide smile. She supposes this is the best sentence that a submissive can hear from her Dominant. This, mixed with the fact that he loves her, sends a sense of joy and pride through her, "Thank you Daddy." She whispers.

He smiles wide this time. He leans in and kisses her softly, slowly, passionately, sending his tongue back into her mouth to caress hers. He separates from her with a light smack and rubs the base of her neck with his fingers, "I love you so much baby."

He moves in again and kisses her forehead, then the bridge of her nose, and then the tip, relishing in her giggle as he moves to the nightstand to grab the keys for the cuffs. He unlocks the metal from around her wrists and lifts her effortlessly into his arms, cradling her to his chest. He moves into his bathroom, starting the water to fill the large garden tub. He fixes her hair into a tight bun before he runs his hand underneath the stream of warm water. He lowers her into the water and slips in behind her, starting his ritual of cleaning her body thoroughly and fully. He gets into every nook and cranny, lifting her arms, swiping behind her knees, and massaging her feet and manicured toes with the wash cloth. A deep yawn pushes through her teeth as she covers her mouth with her wet hand. He chuckles at her, throwing his eyes toward the clock on the wall. 9:17, she's right on time.

He bathes himself quickly and pulls her out of the tub, wrapping her up in one of his fluffy towels and carrying her back into his bedroom. He sets her on her feet and dries her, before grabbing her cocoa butter and smoothing it along her skin until she moisturized. He lifts her again and tosses her lightly to his bed, hearing her laugh as she bounces against the mattress.

"Alexa, play Michonne's playlist." Rick calls and the small, round machine obeys instantly, One Last Night by Vaults begins to play softly, "You want a snack?" He asks, already knowing the answer.

"Of course I do."

He's half way down the hallway as her voice floats toward him. Michonne closes her eyes, throwing an arm over her head as sleep threatens to invade her now extremely relaxed body. She hums along with the upbeat tune before reaching over to the nightstand to grab her phone from it's charging dock. She arches her eye brow a little when no texts or missed calls pop up on her screen. Nothing from Maggie, nothing from Beth, hell, her mother hasn't even called her in a while. Seems like everyone in her life doesn't need her anymore; and that's kinda nice. This is the first time since she opened Flashpoint that she hasn't fretted over every little detail about it until the wee hours of the morning. It's the first time in a long time that she hasn't had Maggie hovering over every little move she makes. It also marks the first time in her life that her mother hasn't made any passive aggressive remarks about her career choice, or lack thereof, her personal life, or lack thereof, or, well, anything, really. She loves her mother of course, but, there's a reason why she's in LA and Michonne is in Atlanta. It's just best for everyone.

She lets the thoughts of her not being needed float away as she logs into her Instagram. She's a little worried about Maggie honestly. She's been MIA since they saw Mike at the cemetery. She clicks on Maggie's name and scrolls through her timeline, only finding one new entry from earlier in the day. She'd recognize those long, toned legs anywhere. Maggie holds a flute of champagne and in the distance is sand and water. Her caption reads _To new beginnings…_ _#metime #youtime #wetime,_ catching Michonne's interest immediately. She taps on the comment section and her fingers glide across the glass screen, _who is we hooker? Text me!_ Before she can flip over to her twitter to continue to stalk her dear friend, her screen dissolves into a call from Beth.

"Hi Beth." She coos deeply as she hits the green button and puts it on speaker. So much for not being needed.

"Hi girly. I'm sorry I'm calling so late, I'm not interrupting a hot date or anything, am I?"

Michonne smiles widely as she can practically see the grin on Beth's face, "No, you are not. What's up?"

"Ok so, you know how I was telling you about that program that automatically keeps track of your inventory counts and alerts you when you're running low and so on and so forth?"

"I do."

"Well, you never got around to buying it so Carl, Noah, and I are currently in the middle of these painstaking counts. Noah's had to recount the Captain America comics like three times already."

Michonne laughs hardily, "I'm sorry! I know that's the last thing you guys want to be doing on a Friday night. I give you authorization to buy that program for next time, by the way."

Beth scoffs, "Oh gee, thanks. Anyway, I need your signature on some of these receipts from this week from deliveries and I need you to add me as an authorized buyer to your account to be able to refill these comics."

This is the part that sucks about playing hooky from work for a few days. Everything piles up. Michonne covers her eyes with her thin fingers, before rubbing her forehead. She glances at the clock. She's naked with a gorgeous man literally making her a snack in his kitchen, the absolute last thing she wants to do is work, "Okay," She drags out a little, "I can stop by in the morning."

"The morning?" Beth asks, her face scrunching up a little as her big eyes search around the comic shop.

Michonne closes one eye, praying that the overachiever in Beth can be quelled, "Is that not okay?"

"Well," Beth starts, "I mean, I was hoping that since I'm going to be up here all night anyway, I could just go ahead and place a couple orders for some stuff and get these receipts filed away." Her voice fades off and Michonne lets out a breath. She should have known better. There is no way to quell the small human that is Beth, "But I mean, if you're busy, I can just come back in the morning when you get here."

"No, no, no. There's no need for all of that. Can you give me like, twenty minutes? I just got out of the shower."

"Not a problem. Thank you, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am! I'll see you in a bit."

She tosses her phone to the bed beside her and stares up at the ceiling, willing herself to move. _If you just get up, the sooner you can get there, and the sooner you can get home. Just get up._ She rolls over, throwing her feet over the side of the bed and moves quickly around the room, pulling herself into some underwear. She tosses one of Rick's plain white t-shirts over her head before she wiggles into a pair of cut off jean shorts. She grabs an outfit for Rick and heads into the kitchen, tossing his stuff on the counter, "Duty calls."

He looks up at her as he arranges different fruits and cubed cheese on the large glass plate in front of him, "Huh?"

"I gotta go to Flashpoint really quick and sign off on some stuff. You wanna come?"

He quirks his eyebrow, "And I'm the workaholic."

"Just put on some pants and let's go. I'm driving."

She turns on her heel and heads toward the elevator, stopping by the small table perched next to the metal doors. She pulls open the single drawer and eyes his different set of keys, all sitting just perfect next to one another, showing the emblem of each foreign made automobile. She grabs the keys to the only American car he owns, his Corvette, and waits patiently for him, smiling as he approaches.

"Listen, that car is my favorite. Just, take it easy." He laughs as they step inside and hit the button for the ground floor.

"I will, I promise." She spits out, that smile still playing on her lips.

He laughs again, adjusting the hat on his head, "I mean it! I love that car!"

"Okay, I get it."

He stares at her for a second as she stares back at him, trouble playing in her big brown eyes, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

She shrugs and takes off in a sprint as soon as the doors open toward the sleek vehicle. Rick lowers his head, not even giving chase, and slides into the passenger seat. She slams her finger on the ignition button and grips the wheel with both hands as the engine rumbles to life. She looks over at him and he closes his eyes, groaning loudly as he lets his head fall back on the headrest.

"Please," He begs, "Take it easy, okay? I just got these rims put on."

She slams her foot on the gas pedal and screeches out of the parking garage, the spinning tires creating a white smoke behind them. She squeals before laughing as she pulls them onto the highway, throwing the performance vehicle into fifth gear and toward a clash of destinies that is seventeen years in the making. Back at the Flashpoint Paradox, Carl bobs his head to the Deftones as Be Quiet and Drive plays over the house stereo. He jots down his numbers, finishing his part of the comic wall, and turns toward the blonde-haired woman in charge.

"I'm finished over here, and before Noah, I might add." He calls, pointing over at his taller counterpart. Noah flips him the bird and returns to counting the Captain America comics, again.

"Awesome." Beth starts, "Can you start on the coffee in the back please?"

"Sure thing."

He tosses the premade spreadsheet that Beth made for them on the counter for her to glance over before he grabs a blank one and heads toward the storage closet in the back. He grabs his Beats from around his neck and pulls them over his ears, drowning out the world with Kendrick Lamar. His mind focuses on the hundreds of bags of different coffees and creamers and bottles of caramel and whipped cream before him, not knowing that his life is about to take a turn he never saw coming. He won't need that car to drive to King County after all. King County is coming straight to him.

Carol stands in front of her two tactical teams as they strap on their bullet proof vests and slam loaded clips into their weapons. She pulls her FBI jacket over her vest and slides back the chamber of her nine-millimeter, letting it slam forward as a bullet gets pushed into place. She puts it into her holster and turns her attention back to the military trained men before her.

"This needs to be quick and easy," She starts, moving her eyes between the men, "Tiller will be lead of the group at the residence, I'll be lead at the comic book shop. Tiller moves once I give my order over the radio. We at the shop only move if the boy is not at the home. If the boy is at the residence, we'll call off the raid on the shop and head back. Got it?" They all nod, some giving verbal acknowledgements as they hold their assorted shot guns and AR-15's. She holds up the most recent picture of Carl pulled from his social media, "This is our package. We don't stop until it is secure. This," She holds up a picture of Judith Hayes, "Is the sister, Judith. We'll take her into custody, nice and easy, and keep her with the boy until I say so." She then holds up a picture of Lori and Shane, aka Isabelle and Robert, "These are our suspects. You take them in any means necessary. If they get violent, so do we." She turns toward Tiller, "Repeat your objective."

"Priority number one is securing the package, male, and possibly a second package, female. Priority number two is detaining one male suspect and one female suspect, by any means necessary. I move on your call. If we are unsuccessful at the residence, you move on my call at the coffee shop."

Carol nods, tucking the pictures into her jacket before placing her hands on her hips, "Let's roll."


	24. Chapter 24

**Knock, knock! A year and a half later... hopefully, this makes up for my absence. I can't wait to hear from you guys, I hope you like it!**

* * *

 **Twenty-Four.**

Michonne weaves in and out of traffic as the night air whips in through the open window and plays with her pony tail. Rick stays silent in the passenger seat, taking deep breaths and slamming his eyes closed as she maneuvers through the Friday night traffic. She's lucky he loves her. She slows down once she takes her familiar exit, keeping her eyes forward when she feels his crystal blues on the side of her face. She tries to hide the smirk on her face but fails miserably as a giggle erupts from her chest.

"Very funny, Ms. Moreau." He lightly chides, his voice dipping low but still managing to have a humorous tone.

"Thank you. I was voted most likely to make her Dominant laugh in high school, so I appreciate the sentiment."

Rick laughs loudly, resting his head lightly on the headrest behind him, "You are so lame."

"I was voted most lame too." She shrugs as the light turns green before her.

"Now that, I believe. You were probably the biggest nerd in high school."

She swats at his arm quickly, "Shut up. I got into some trouble thank you very much."

"Mmm hmm." He groans, squinting his eyes and nodding sarcastically.

Michonne pulls the vehicle into one of the curb side parking spaces right in front of the Flashpoint Paradox. She cuts the engine and steps out, swirling the keys in a circle around her index finger as she joins Rick on the sidewalk, "You still gonna let me drive that Tesla?"

He scoffs loudly, his mouth dropping open, "Fuck no!"

"What?" Michonne shrieks before dissolving into a fit of laughter, "I can't believe you!"

"Believe it, sister. You're not going anywhere near my baby."

She throws her head back in laughter, clapping her hands a little as she starts to move toward the front door, "That's cold, Grimes." She laments, glancing over her shoulder.

"Not after what I just witnessed it's not."

She unlocks the door with her set of keys and pushes through. The lights are bright, the overhead music loud as Beth leans over the bar, counting the till for the night. Noah stands by the comic wall, bopping his head lightly before shimmying his shoulders as he sings to himself. Beth snaps her head toward them as she picks up their movements in her peripheral vision. She smiles widely, one of those smiles that takes over her whole face, and stands erect, throwing her pencil down and rushing her boss. She crashes into Michonne's body, drawing another loud laugh from the older woman who wraps her arms around the young, blue eyed girl.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!" Beth chortles, holding her tight, "God, you look so good!"

Michonne continues to laugh but returns Beth's hold on her, full force, "I have been MIA lately, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Beth clicks her tongue as she pulls back, turning her attention to Rick, "You have very good reason to be MIA. Hi, I think we've met once before. I'm Beth." She introduces her herself, holding out her hand.

Rick smiles back genuinely, taking her hand and shaking it firmly, "I believe we have. I'm Rick Grimes."

Beth looks him up and down quickly with a playful smile on her lips, "Rick Grimes as in the same Rick Grimes Noah keeps gushing about?" She throws her eyes over her shoulder as Noah approaches quickly, "Oh, Mr. Grimes is so smart, he is such a legend. Oh my god, let me tell you what Mr. Grimes said today, he's so funny!"

Noah pushes her lightly as she mocks him before clearing his throat and offering his hand to Rick, "I don't gush about you, Mr. Grimes. This woman has no manners about her."

Rick laughs again, "Don't call me Mr. Grimes, I feel like you're talking to my father. Please, just Rick."

"Sorry," Noah starts. He shoots his eyes to Michonne, who's wrapped her arm around Rick's free one loosely. Noah isn't necessarily sure if he's ever seen her this casual before, and he for damn sure has never seen Rick in anything less than a thousand-dollar suit. Noah's been so busy lately, and with Michonne barely coming to work, he hasn't gotten the full story until, well, now. His boss is fucking his other boss. He's not entirely sure how to feel about that. That's a lie, he knows exactly how to feel about it. Awkward. He feels the heat rising in his face and turns on his heel quickly, "I'm gonna get back to these comics. Nice to see you both." He calls as he walks back toward the wall.

Beth squints her eyes at him as he moves away from the group and shakes her head. Twenty-one years old going on twelve, "He is so fucking weird."

Michonne giggles. She's missed them. She misses the youth of them, "So things are good? You haven't had any issues?" She asks as they move back toward the bar.

Beth nods confidently as she grabs the receipts she needs signed from underneath the bar and pushes them toward Michonne, "Everything has been awesome. This place practically runs itself."

"You aren't mad at me?" Michonne asks as she scribbles her name.

Beth rolls her eyes deeply before blowing some air out of her mouth, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, "I'm not mad. I love this place and I love you. I'm glad to see you having some fun." She winks and nods her head toward Rick, who sits at the bar, his face buried in his phone, "I wouldn't be too worried about this place either if I had him to go home to."

Michonne gasps and slaps at her hip, "Beth Gallagher!"

"I mean it! He is gorgeous. I can't believe Maggie hid him from you as long as she did."

"Well," Michonne starts, nodding her head, "She had a pretty good damn reason. He's um, let's just say, he has very singular interests."

Beth brings her hand to her chest, "Ooooh, he really sounds like fun now."

Rick stands after a few moments and motions toward the front door, "I'm going to check in with Tara super quick, I'll be outside, okay?"

"And I'm the workaholic?" Michonne quips, quirking her eye brow.

"Shut up. I'd be in bed right now if it weren't for you." He calls over his shoulder as he pushes back out into the warm night.

Just as the front door closes, the door to the back swings open as Carl pushes through. His face breaks into a large smile as he moves his beats from his ears to on his shoulders, "Michonne."

Michonne whips her head toward the sound of her name and smiles widely back at the brown-haired teenager, "Carl! Come here!"

He moves toward her and laughs loudly as she pulls him into a large hug. He laughs again as she sways them back and forth slightly before she leans back to look at him, "You've gotten taller."

"No, I haven't." He chuckles.

"Well, It seems like it. How have you been? I'm so happy to see you!"

"I'm good, I'm good. I'm glad to be back here. How have you been? And Maggie, I haven't seen her since I've been back either."

She sighs happily, "I am really good, I'm enjoying myself actually. Maggie is in Florida as we speak doing god knows what."

"Or who." Carl quips quickly, laughing lightly as Michonne swats his arm.

"That's not nice."

Rick turns his back to the door as he lifts the phone to his ear, knowing that the ambitious Tara is more than wide awake. It rings twice before her chipper voice fills his head, "Rick, hello."

"How are we this evening, Ms. Chambler? I'm not interrupting anything I hope."

"Never," Tara smiles, throwing her eyes toward Rosita as she towels off from her shower at the edge of Tara's bed, "What's up? We were worried about you earlier, it's not like you to miss a day of meetings."

"I encourage everyone to use their personal time except myself. Figured today was as good as any. Just wanted to check in with you about your projects."

"They're all on track…" Her voice begins to fade as Rick glances down the street. He squints his eyes and stands up a little straighter as a SWAT vehicle turns onto the street. He keeps his eyes on it as it barrels toward him, slamming on its breaks right in front of the Flashpoint Paradox. He turns quickly to face the door, his eyes landing on Michonne and Beth as they chat with a second young man. He takes a step toward the door but stops dead in the tracks as a familiar voice calls out to him.

"Rick, step back."

* * *

"Lori, I'm tired." Shane sighs aggressively, rubbing the back of his neck with his large hand, "Don't start."

"Don't tell me not to start." She seethes, "I'm sick of arguing with you!"

"You're the one that's arguing! Bitching and moaning all the fucking time about shit we can't control!" He sighs again, dropping his hands to his hips as he moves his eyes toward the window, "I knew we shouldn't have come back here."

Lori sucks her teeth, shaking her head as a slow smile spreads on her lips out of anger, "You're right, maybe we shouldn't have moved back here, but I do know this. No matter where we would have ended up, _we_ ," She says deeply, motioning her hand between herself and him, "Can't fix _this_."

Shane nods slowly, almost in defeat. She's right and he knows it, but he doesn't want to deal with it. Not on a Friday night anyway, "I'm going to the bar."

Lori laughs as he moves by her, "Yeah. Do what you know best, run."

It's Shane's turn to laugh, "Right back atcha, kid."

She watches him as he throws open the front door and jogs down the front steps, completely out of sight. She closes her eyes and tilts her head toward the ceiling. She just stands there, letting the hurt and the pain, the guilt, the fear, the hatred pool around her. She has to feel it, she has to make herself feel it or she won't be able live with herself any longer. She opens her eyes after a few moments, listening for any movement from her teenage daughter. She must have on her headphones. Usually, she'd would have stormed out of her room, tears streaming down her face as she screamed at her so-called parents to cut it out. She's an emotional child. Something she picked up for her no doubt. Rick was never much of a crier.

Lori moves to the window and gazes out into the still Georgia night. She drops her hand to her back pocket and pull out the small, white business card. Her fingers trace the edges of the sturdy card, flipping it over, tapping it lightly on her palm. She looks down at it, reading over the name printed neatly in the center. Carol Peletier. Special Agent. Missing Persons. She looks out of the window again, her mind replaying her afternoon. She sits outside that building every day. Sometimes for hours. Today, she finally had the courage to go in. She threw on her big sunglasses and clutched her purse to her chest as she moved inside and went straight to the front desk.

She was vague with the receptionist, not giving any important details. She just let on that maybe, just maybe, she had heard some rumors about an old kidnapping that happened a few counties over, about seventeen years prior. The receptionist shoved the card toward her and returned her attention to her computer screen, having heard a hundred "rumors" already today. Lori takes another breath as the trees rustle with the wind, tapping the card against her hand as her mind continues to race. She owes this to her children. It doesn't matter what happens to her. They deserve this.

* * *

"Are you finished with the coffee already?" Beth asks, tossing a small towel over her shoulder.

"Almost," Carl says throwing his hands up in defense, "I ran outta room on my sheet, I just came out to get a new one. Dang lady!"

Michonne smiles at him as Beth orders him back into the stock room, wanting to get finished before midnight, "When are you working next Carl, I wanna catch up with you." Michonne asks as the boy steps off.

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll buy dinner, how's that? As gratitude for all of you guys hard work. We can shut down a little early and have something brought in."

"Sounds good to me." Noah calls.

Michonne looks toward Beth, who nods and smiles, then back to Carl, "Works for me." He agrees, shrugging slightly, "I'll let my mom know I'll be late." He wiggles his fingers at Michonne and places his wireless Beats back on his ears, cranking up the volume.

Carol places her hand on Rick's shoulder and pulls him backward toward the side of the building. Two agents line up behind her and three others stand just on the other side of the door. Their guns are raised toward the door, Carol's literally over Rick's shoulder, "What the fuck Carol?" He whispers harshly.

"It's a long story, okay, just hang on with me." She reaches toward her shoulder, pressing in the two buttons on the side of her walkie, "Tiller, come in."

"Tiller."

"My girlfriend is in there." Rick hisses, "There's kids in there! What are you doing?"

"Are you in position?" Carol asks back into the walkie, ignoring the angry Rick.

"10-4."

"Carol!" Rick hisses again in a hushed but stern tone.

Tiller hold up two fingers to his men as he waits for Peletier's signal, "Move." She says briskly into the walkie, resting her hand back onto her weapon.

* * *

Tiller points twice toward the door and moves briskly through the front yard of the small house, two men follow him, jogging up the porch and flanking either side of the door, as Agent Shotwell turns toward the road, his eyes scouring their surroundings. Tiller takes the steps with ease and slams his foot into the front door, once, twice, three times until it pops open, slamming against the wall on the inside. Lori sits straight up in bed, her head whipping toward her bedroom door as loud footsteps ring through her home. She throws her feet over the side of the bed, running toward the bedroom door and throwing it open.

"FBI, hands up, now!"

"Mom?" Judith calls out in fear as she steps out from her own bedroom.

"Hands up!" Tiller screams, his gun trained on the young woman, "Name! What's your name?" He asks.

"J-j-j-Judy." She whimpers, her hands over her head.

Two officers make quick work of Lori, whipping her around and placing cuffs on her wrists as Tiller secures the young Judith. Lori's eyes are wide, her chest heaving as the large men manhandle her down the hall way, "My daughter!" She screams, "Where are you going with my daughter, you bastards!" She screams, fighting against the agent who has her, "God dammit!"

"Mom!" Judy cries as Tiller pushes her toward the front door.

"You're okay baby, you're okay." Lori tries to calm her, "I'm right here, okay? I'm right here."

Tiller has set a brisk pace. He pushes the barefooted girl down the steps and quickly secures her into the back of his SUV, ignoring her screams and tears. He turns on his heel as Lori and Agent Woodson are the next out of the house as Shotwell moves inside to help secure each of the bedrooms. Tiller stands stoic, his eyes scanning the house and the roads as he waits for confirmation. Woodson and Shotwell return moments later, with Woodson giving a thumbs up, "All clear."

* * *

Carol pushes past Rick, stepping in front of him and quickly rearranging her hands on her weapon, "What in the fuck is going on?" Rick seethes, his blood beginning to boil at the dramatics, "You're going to scare them!"

"Peletier."

She holds up her hand quickly, shushing Rick as Tiller's voice comes over the radio, "Go ahead."

"Female package is secure, female suspect apprehended. Priority number one is absent, male suspect absent."

"10-4." She makes eye contact with the agent standing on the opposite side of the door, "Move."

The agents move around Carol and Rick and rush inside the small business, with Carol bringing up the rear. Michonne, Beth, and Noah jump at the noise, Beth screaming loudly at the sudden intrusion. The agents spout off instructions as Carol's keen eyes move around the empty coffee shop.

"Hands up!"

Noah drops his pencil and throws up his hands as Michonne and Beth follow suit. The agents move to each one of them, whipping them around and cuffing them all to secure the shop. Rick moves inside, his eyes wide with anger as he watches, completely out of control, "Carol! Fuck!" He screams.

"Be easy with them, be easy." Carol says calmly, linking eyes with Michonne, "Carl Hayes. Is he here?"

Michonne pushes hot breath out of mouth through her teeth, her motherly instincts coming over her, "What do you want with him?"

"Is he here?" Carol repeats lowly.

"Why?" Michonne asks loudly.

"Listen, this is bigger than you. Tell me where he is." Carol raises her voice, her heart in her throat, "Now."

A movement in front of them snaps all their attention toward the swinging door of the back room. Rick's mouth falls open as the young Carl steps out from the back room, stopping in his tracks as ten pairs of eyes land on him. Rick exhales slowly as his eyes instantly cloud over with tears. He'd know that face anywhere. Even after all this time. He is still his sweet faced little boy. Rick blinks, causing a tear to slip down his cheek as his chin trembles with emotion.

"What the fuck?" Carl lets out, pushing his hands over his head as he stares down the barrels of six guns, "Holy shit."

"Easy, easy." Carol sighs lightly, holding up her hand to calm everyone in the room, "What's your name?"

Carl is silent, swallowing deeply as he throws his eyes toward Michonne, "Michonne?"

"Hey, right here. What's your name son?" Carol asks again. She just needs him to say it. _Say it!_

"Carl?" A small voice sounds from behind Carol, pulling Carl's attention toward it.

Rick steps beside Carol, his blue eyes still locked on the young boy before him. Carl lets out a slow breath, his eyes squinting as his face breaks in confusion. He knows that face. Those eyes. He can't place them immediately but, he's seen them before. Gazed into them. He feels an energy from this man almost instantly. He knows that energy. He's felt it before. They stare at each other, one standing in confusion, the other standing in certainty. Rick knows that's his boy. That's his boy.

Rick swallows quickly, his voice deep, "Carl, it's me bud." He takes a few heavy breaths, trying to remain calm, "It's me, don't you remember?"

"What's your name?" Carol starts again, cutting Rick off, "We just need your full name."

Carl can't take his eyes off the man before him, his mind racing. Carol tosses her eyes between the young man and his eager father, knowing that she won't be able to keep Rick back for much longer, "What's your name honey? It's okay."

"How do you know my name?" Carl asks breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off the older man.

"It's me. It's," Rick can't even find the words. He blinks quickly as more emotion takes over him, "I'm…" His voice falls away, "I'm your dad. It's dad."

Carl's eyes well up with tears as memories, deep, long forgotten memories play in his head. They're fractured, just snippets of moments, but he remembers. He remembers now. He _knows_ that voice. That's the same voice that used to sing to him. It's the same voice that told his younger self that his daddy loved him. But, it can't be. It can't. It's just…. More tears fall down Rick's face as his chest begins to heave, his breath escaping him faster and faster. Fear and anger and concern rush through his veins as he watches tears begin to stream down his sons face, his parental instincts flooding over him. Michonne, Noah, and Beth stare in disbelief as the scene plays out in front of them, their mouths open in disbelief.

"No." Carl shakes his head, closing his eyes, "No. No, no, no. It can't be, it's not-"

Rick nods slowly, covering his mouth with his hand. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, trying to calm himself, not wanting to scare Carl. He drops his hand to his chest, letting out an audible breath, "It's me buddy."

"I don't know you." The scared Carl hisses back, refusing to believe his own mind. It can't be true. His mom wouldn't lie to him, she wouldn't.

"Yes, you do." Rick answers softly, "You know me. Try and remember, you know me. I know you. I'd know you anywhere."

"Carl," Carol coos, shifting her weight evenly between her feet as she keeps her eyes on Rick, "Look at me, it's okay. It's okay, we are not going to hurt you." Carl lets out a sob, his body beginning to shake from all the emotion swirling within him. He drops his head as Carol begins to speak again, "We can clear this up for you, I promise."

"No." Carl musters, his eyes cloudy and red as tears make their escape down his face, "He's dead. You're dead. She told me."

"She lied. I would never leave you buddy." Rick counters quickly.

"Rick, please." Carol whispers in a hushed voice, "You're Carl Hayes, right?" She asks, trying to take back control.

Carl shakes his head quickly, unable to find any words. Rick starts to move toward him, but Carol stops him. He pushes her hands away and keeps moving, this time being stopped by one of the large agents, "You're scaring him." Rick says, struggling against the man.

"Just tell us your name, bud. I just need to hear it." Carol says, her eyes shifting between him and Rick.

"You're scaring him!" Rick screams, pushing and shoving against the man in front of him, "Stop!"

"Carl." Carol says louder.

Carl lets out a sob as his world falls in and out place, all at the same time. All the running. Picking up, literally in the middle of the night sometimes, and being in a completely new state in the morning. It wasn't as normal as his mother and Shane used to try and make it. The name changes, the lies to his teachers. It wasn't normal. It wasn't… The picture he found in his mothers' things sticks in his mind, front and center, like a projector image plastered on a wall. That man in that picture stands in front of him now. His hair is longer, his beard grayer, the lines in his face deeper, but those _eyes_. Those eyes are the same. Those eyes in that picture he's stared at for years, stare back at him now and he knows. He knows. That was his father in that picture. This is his father standing in front of him now.

"Dad?" He lets out, his broken voice barely above a whisper.

The boy sinks to the ground as the realization finally hits him. He breaks down, his cries loud and he rakes his fingers through his hair. Rick loses his cool completely, pushing the taller man violently and rushing toward his crying boy. He places his hands on either side of Carl's face, cupping his cheeks in his large hands, "I'm here. I'm right here bud."

Carol wants to let this play out. Only she and God knows how long Rick has waited for this moment. She has a job to do though. It isn't finished, not yet. She nods toward one of the agents, lowering her gun, "Take him, easily." She says low, " _Easy_."

One of the men pulls Rick away as two more gently corral the emotional boy. Rick watches in horror as they move his son out of the store, his eyes frantic as he again begins to struggle, "Where are you taking him? Where are you taking him? Let me see my boy! Let me have my son!"

"Rick, listen to me." Carol's voice is soft and easy as she tries to calm her friend.

"Carol." He begs as he sobs openly.

She turns toward on of the agents, "Uncuff them." She directs, turning her eyes toward Michonne, "Michonne?"

"Yeah?" She answers breathlessly.

"3000 Flowers Rd. We'll be there in fifteen minutes, you can follow us." Michonne nods quickly before rushing toward Rick's side, "Just give me fifteen minutes and I'll explain everything, okay? Please Rick. It's almost over. I promise you. It's almost over."

He grabs onto Michonne's hand, almost having to use her as a crutch to stay standing. He wants nothing more than to rush back toward his son but he something in him knows that Carol will keep him safe. He just has to keep believing that. He's believed in her for seventeen years, what's fifteen more minutes? He nods slowly, dropping his head toward his feet, "Okay." He closes his eyes, continuing to nod, "Okay."

"Thank you. 3000 Flowers Rd."

Carol turns on her heel and moves out into the street, pulling her phone from her pocket. She taps on a number and places it to her ear. It rings once.

"Peletier?"

"Package has been secured. Female priority secured, and female suspect is in custody. We're moving toward central booking now. I have the father and his girlfriend in tow."

"Excellent job." The voice exhales.

"I need an arrest warrant for Eugene Porter."

"Done. I'll meet you at booking in fifteen."

"Thank you, Sir."

* * *

"My daughter!" Lori screams, fighting violently against the agent as he moves her toward the black SUV, "Get your fucking hands off of me, you fucking son of a bitch! Let go of me!"

"Isabelle Vineyard aka Lori Grimes?" Agent Tiller asks, quirking his eyebrow toward the sky, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Go fuck yourself, you smug prick. Where are you taking her!"

He smiles wider, "You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Carl Grimes."

"Yeah?" She laughs breathlessly, "Tell me something I don't know. Answer me. My daughter."

"She's in good hands. No thanks to you." He quips, opening the back door to the second large SUV, "Get her in."

The second agent pushes her into the backseat, slamming the door behind her with a thud. Lori slams her head against the headrest and closes her eyes, whimpering softly as her eyes cloud with tears. She stares up at the ceiling of the car, tears slipping down her cheeks. She wishes these tears were out of sadness, but they're not. It's relief. It's almost happiness. It's over. It's finally over. She couldn't be happier honestly. She slinks her body toward the opposite door, resting her weight against it as she places her forehead on the window. Tiller gets into the drivers' seat, slamming the door with a force that shakes the car. Within moments, they're moving, Lori's body shaking slightly as the tires grind against the gravel and pavement. She stares up at the stars and blinks slowly, her once racing mind finally still.

"My daughter."

He sighs loudly, "She's in the car ahead of us. She'll be fine."

"My son? Do you, do you have my son yet?" She asks slowly, her voice low and sullen. Her eyes plastered on the stars.

Tiller glances up into the rearview mirror, watching the small woman as she stares out the window, "Not yet. They're moving in on him now."

She closes her eyes, letting out a breath as hot tears roll down her face, "Please don't hurt him. This isn't his fault." She cries.

Tiller places his eyes back on the road before him, following the break lights of the vehicle in front of him, "I know it isn't. It's yours."

She nods slowly, opening her eyes after a while, "Do you have children? Agent?"

"I do."

"Don't take your eyes off of them." She says sadly, "You'll blink and before you know it, they're grown. The sad part is, only then, will you realize how much you've ruined them."

"Where's your husband?" Tiller asks gruffly, changing the subject, not wanting to hear parenting advice from a criminal.

Lori sniffles, moving her eyes from the dark sky to her lap, "Northside Tavern."

* * *

Shane lifts the cold bottle to his lips, letting it linger there for a moment before he takes a swig of the golden liquid. Lori's words swirl through his brain as he wipes at his lips with the arm of his jacket, his eyes zeroed in on the bottles of alcohol behind the bar. He's looking at the decorative bottles, but he doesn't really see them. This is a feeling that Shane has become accustomed with. Being in a room, but not being present. Looking at something but not really seeing it. She's right; he knows that, he's known that for years. But, he can't just give up. He can't just not fight for what's his…

He scoffs loudly at himself. What's _his_ , he's got a lot of fucking nerve. Everything he has, Lori, those kids, this life, it ain't his. He stole it. He ain't no better than them two-bit criminals that he swore he'd protect his community against. What's that saying? You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Shane never saw himself as a hero, so what does that say? Was this fate always written in the stars for him? Was he the villain all along, _pretending_ to be some kind of hero, a savior? He's not so sure. He takes another drink before clicking his tongue against his teeth. He sits the bottle down on the wooden bar and spins it slowly, his eyes following the drops of condensation that spider down the side.

 _You're lying to yourself. You've always been the villain in this story. You know that. She knew that. Rick was always the knight in shining armor. Sweet, innocent, quiet Rick. That mother fucker always got everything he ever wanted and you've always hated him. Don't kid yourself._ Shane rubs at his face roughly, resting his elbows against the bar as he holds his head in his hands. That's not true. He loved Rick, even now. Even after all this time and everything he's done to that man. He loves him. He was the best part of Shane. He always looked out for him, made sure he didn't get into too much trouble. Rick was always pulling him back onto the right side of the road when Shane was veering too far off course. They were friends, that's what friends do for each other. But Shane can't deny it, underneath the friendship, the laughs, there was a nasty jealously brewing. Especially as they got older and people started noticing the differences. _Rick is so smart. He is so kind, so funny. That Grimes boy, he is going places. He has a bright future ahead of him. You're friends with Rick Grimes, right? God, you're lucky to know him._ He hated it after a while. Everybody always asking about Rick. Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick. It was just like his daddy said, one day, everybody will see that Shane Walsh ain't no good. That day finally came.

When Rick revealed his darkness to him, his predilection for tying girls up, Shane thought he'd hit the jackpot. No girl was going to want to be within ten miles of him. He'll try that shit and be ousted, and then the whole community will see how wrong they were about that Grimes boy. He's just a freak. A pervert. He ain't no different than Shane. He's not so good after all. But, as usual, everything just went Rick's way. The girls loved Rick's darkness, his _predilection_. Sheila Crossgrove was his very first experiment. She was as good a girl could get; never swore, always sat with her legs crossed, went to church three times a week, even taught Sunday school classes for the children. She and Rick were just thirteen when he tied her hands behind her back for the first time and wrapped his hands around her throat. He didn't fuck her, he just touched her, lightly, his deft fingers skimming along her dainty, pale skin, circling her budding breasts, teasing her unblossomed flower as he pulled her hair. Shane knew, he just knew that she'd blow the whistle on him. Then, everyone would see, but he had underestimated the seedy undertones of a small town and a girl on the cusp of womanhood. Sheila Crossgrove had gotten a taste of the unholy; and she was hooked. She said nothing, to no one, she just had this look in her eye. She was no longer a girl. She was property of Rick Grimes.

Nobody said a word, not even to each other, as Rick made his way through almost their entire class of female counterparts. Rick was smart, he knew who to stay away from and who would keep his dirty little secrets. They loved it. It was like, they were in this secret club or something. Sure, they whispered, they had small, hushed conversations over lunch, but they never shared just how far Rick had taken them. They wouldn't tell on him for all the money or gold in the world. They just stood in line and waited for their turn, like good little girls. Then, he came upon sweet little Lori and made her the queen of King County. _They are such a great couple. Look how good they look together. How sweet!_ It was all horseshit. He was a fucking weirdo, but nobody wanted to see it that way. He just got weirder with her, pushing them both deeper and deeper into his perversions. They got married right after high school, Rick put her through college while he slaved away on construction sites. They had Carl, everything was picture perfect. Until, Shane got a whiff that it wasn't.

Rick suddenly wasn't Mr. Perfect anymore. Shane couldn't have been happier. The devil in him wanted to knock Rick right off his pedestal, so when he had the chance, when Lori looked him in his eye that Saturday afternoon, practically begging him to have her, he took it. He took that little slice of hatred for Rick Grimes and ate it up. Every crumb of it, and then sopped it up with one of his mama's biscuits. He took Rick's wife, both of his children, almost every earthly possession, his money, his dignity, his pride. He had destroyed the perfect little bubble that was Rick Grimes. He had won. Or, so he'd thought. Here he is, seventeen years later, sitting in a bar all alone, wishing he could take it all back. He didn't hate Rick. He hated himself. Rick was free. Rick quickly found his role in life and embraced it. Rick found himself and made peace with the parts of him that maybe he didn't like so much. Shane never found _Shane_. He just put on a mask and lived someone else's life. How fucking sad.

Carol steps into the bar quietly, her eyes shifting around from person to person, taking count. It's a hole in the wall, only old Cowboys come here to drink away their sorrows and reminisce about a simpler time. Shane is the youngest one here. She spots him quickly at the end of the bar and reaches for her weapon, pulling it smoothly from its holster. She takes a step further into the hushed bar and flips open her badge, announcing herself loudly, "Carol Peletier, FBI. I need everybody out. Now."

She keeps her eyes square on the olive skinned, shaved head of Shane Walsh as everyone takes heed to her warning. She waits until the bar is clear before she puts her badge away and centers the sights of her government issued gun on her target, "Shane Walsh?"

He takes another slow swig of his beer, never taking his eyes off the bottle, "Yeah?" He knows his time is up. There's no use in fighting.

"You know," She starts slowly, taking a few steps toward him, "I've been staring at your picture for seventeen years. I thought you'd be bigger."

He laughs lowly, dropping his head, "I hear that a lot." It grows silent between the two of them, before he pipes up once more, "Do you have them?"

"Who?"

"Carl, Judy. That's why you're here, right?" He finally turns to look at her, "You have them?"

She nods slowly, "I do. Your wife too."

"It's over?"

"It's over."

Shane turns back toward the bar and finishes off his beer. He sets the now empty glass bottle on the small square napkin, knowing that this'll be the last time he'll be able to enjoy the devil's nectar for the foreseeable future. He stands slowly, lifting his hands so that she can see them, and moves away from the bar. He moves, slowly, trying to put her at ease, toward the door, feeling her eyes and gun on him as he passes by, and stops, "Lead the way, Agent."

She puts her gun to his back and pushes him out the door. She walks him to a black SUV and opens the door for him. He stops just as he's about to get in, lowering his hands to his lower back and crossing his wrists, "We don't need those, do we?" Carol asks, tilting her head slightly as she eyes him.

He shrugs, staring straight ahead as a gust of wind whips around the pair, "I'm no better than anybody else." He says lowly.

She purses her lips and blinks slowly but obliges his request. She slaps the metal cuffs around his wrists, tightening them to comfort and helps his inside the vehicle. She slams the door behind him and walks to the drivers' side, taking just a second to glance up at the starry sky. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a split second, just for herself, before she climbs behind the steering wheel.

It's over.


End file.
